Harry Potter and the Forbidden Chalice
by C.D. Bailes
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over and Harry Potter stands triumphant over Lord Voldemort. But the price for his victory is far more than he could have imagined. Five years on and Harry finds himself ready to spend his life with someone he never imagined.
1. Five and Half Years Later

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

**_Please note: This is an edited version of the original chapter. I have made a couple of small changes for continuity purposes only. Almost all of the original chapter remains intact as it was originally published._****Five and Half Years Later**

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Harry awoke with a sudden start. He had had the dream again. It was the same dream he had been having for the last five and a half years. The dream came rarely, most often on nights when he came to a decision that took his relationship with woman now lying cradled in his arms to the next level. Harry took the dream as a reminder of how lucky he was, of how things could have been, and as a reminder that he would do whatever it took to protect the woman who had become the most important thing in his life.

It was a few seconds before he realized that it was still dark outside. Moonlight flowed through the opening in the curtains partially bathing the bedroom in a bluish light. He took a deep breath, taking in the sweet aroma of strawberries that flowed from the hair of the woman lying nestled against him. She had taken to using Muggle hair-care products which had proven to be far more effective than their wizarding equivalents at taming her unruly hair. Instead of being big and bushy, as it once had been, her hair was now sleek and stylish, even in the mornings. Although Harry preferred the way her used to be, he did love the way it smelled. He took another deep breath, letting the scent flow into his nose. Harry lifted his head slightly and gazed over the moonlit outline of her cheek. Her skin looked soft and inviting, even in this light. Then his eyes traced the outline of her naked body underneath the bed sheets. He loved how beautiful her figure looked in the moonlight. Five years ago, if anyone would have told Harry Potter that he would one day be romantically involved with Hermione Granger, he would have laughed at such a foolish thought. Now, he could barely picture what his life would be like without her.

Harry had woken up with Hermione in his arms a countless number of times over the past three and half years, and in recent months, he found himself waking up next to her more and more often. He had grown to take great pleasure in waking up this way, to the point that on those few occasions when she did not spend the night, Harry did not sleep well and often woke up empty feeling inside of him. Neither had expected anything like this to happen. They were both destined for other people. The certainty of this fact was never in doubt. Yet, the lives they both thought they should have been leading were never meant to be. Now, they had forged a new life, one that brought them into each other's arms.

There had always been a strong feeling of friendship between them, ever since their first year at school together, and that friendship had continued after the Battle of Hogwarts. At first, they were simply two friends who turned to one another in a time of grief, each drawing strength from the other to help them through a difficult time. However, things went too far. They got too close and made a mistake that could have ended their friendship and very nearly did. Instead, they took their mistake to be nothing more than two people seeking comfort in each other over the loss of the ones they cared so much about. Their friendship continued, albeit different than it had been before. Nothing could restore the friendship to its original state. While their friendship was far from romantic, there was a certain level of intimacy in their relationship that had not been present before. They were closer to each other, and as time went on, they grew even closer, spending greater amounts of their free time together. They began dining together, spending weekend afternoons shopping, and even going to the occasional Muggle movie together. Soon, Harry found that his thoughts were often turning to Hermione and when they would next spend time together. Then, one Saturday night, Harry found himself standing in a deserted alley way, and his lips locked with Hermione's in a passionate kiss. Now, Harry could not help the fact that he was now deeply in love with Hermione Granger and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her.

His love for Hermione came with a price, though. Every caress of her soft skin, every whiff of her hair, every kiss, every embrace, and every moment of passion were accompanied by stab of guilt. She had been his best friend's girl, and even though Ron was gone, Harry couldn't help but feel that he was, somehow, betraying his best friend. After that night in the Forrest of Dean when Ron destroyed Slytherin's locket, Harry learned of his friend's fear that Hermione preferred Harry over him. Nothing could have been further from the truth, of course. Even today Harry had some suspicions that Hermione still preferred Ron to him, but he wasn't angry or jealous. He understood the feeling, for he had it himself for Ron's younger sister, Ginny.

Harry had loved Ginny. He still loved her. He would always love her. Harry sometimes wondered if she had not night died on that night at Hogwarts would she now be here instead of Hermione. It was a question he refused to answer, knowing that it pointless to dwell on something that could never be. Deep down, however, Harry knew that the answer was "Yes", and this only made things harder for him. He tried to tell himself time and again that both Ginny and Ron would understand, that they would approve, but there was still that doubt in his mind.

Over time, the feelings of guilt lost some of their strength, but scarcely a day went by where Harry did not feel them. It was on mornings like this, when he woke up much earlier than Hermione and he looked over at the amazing woman lying in his arms and realized how lucky he was to have her in his life, that these feelings of guilt hit their hardest.

Harry closed his eyes, and like so many nights before, his thoughts turned to that night more than five years ago, the night when all of this really began. It had been a night of tremendous joy for the wizarding world. Lord Voldemort's reign of terror had been brought to an end, his Death Eaters were rounded up and imprisoned, and the Dark Lord lay dead on the floor of the Great Hall. The wizarding world had been not only returned to peace but it was the beginning of a new age of reform within the Ministry of Magic. The cost for the victory, though, had been high. Dozens of people were dead and dozens more severely injured. Among the dead were Lupin and Tonks, and with Lupin's death Harry's last direct link to his parents was now gone. Colin Creevey, the boy who had idolized Harry since his second year at Hogwarts, had been killed. After that night, Harry went to as many of their funerals as he could. Everyone of those people, his friends and classmates, had died to help him succeed in killing Voldemort. It was the least that he could do. All of the funerals were difficult, but by far, the hardest funeral for Harry had been the one that saw Ron and Ginny buried next to each other. Harry had blamed himself for their deaths, no matter what they had told him that night.


	2. The Battle of Hogwarts Revisited

**_If you have not yet read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows you will probably not be able to follow a lot of this chapter. So, I would recommend picking up a copy and reading it first. _**

**The Battle of Hogwarts Revisited: Unexpected Consequences**

Harry's arm wrapped tighter around Hermione, taking comfort in the warmth of her bare skin as it pressed against his own. He closed his eyes and listened to her breathing. As it had on so many nights before, the slow rhythm to her breathing relaxed him, and soon took Harry to the blackness of sleep and towards the dream that he was sure to come. His last conscious thought before he finally drifted off was that one way or another, after tomorrow he would not have the dream for a while.

Sure enough, he found himself slipping back into the dream. It started at a place much earlier than it normally did, a fact which Harry did not seem to notice, nor really care about because now he was no longer in the present. It was now a night in May, more than five years before, and Harry was once again a seventeen year old wizard. He was standing just outside the Room of Requirement. Both Ron and Hermione were there with him. All three of them watched on, in surprise, as Ravenclaw's Diadem crumbled to pieces with an eerie scream, the result of Crabbe's Fiendfyre. Voldemort's snake was the only horcrux left to be destroyed.

Now, they needed a moment to think, to come up with a plan to kill the snake, but the events that were to follow would prevent the three of them from coming up with any kind of plan. It was then that Percy and Fred appeared, both in separate duels with different Death Eaters. Harry, Ron, and Hermione immediately ran to their aid. Three stunning spells later one of the Death Eater's was down, and Percy had successfully transfigured what turned out to be Pius Thicknesse, the puppet Minister for Magic, into something like a sea urchin. Percy had even cracked a joke about resigning from the Ministry. Then, the whole world seemed to explode.

All of them, Harry, his friends, and Death Eaters alike, had been thrown several feet through the air. Harry was dazed. He shook his head in an effort to regain his senses. He heard Percy yelling something that sounded like "Fred!" Harry shook his head and thought he heard another loud scream from what sounded like a girl. He quickly dismissed the second yell when he looked over to see Percy struggling over Fred's body. It was as though he had been doused with a bucket of cold water. His senses returned instantly. Fearing the worst, Harry jumped up to his feet and rushed to Fred Weasly's side. He had to see for himself. Fred was unconscious and bleeding from a small gash on the side of his head, but he was still breathing, still alive. Harry let out a small sigh of relief, glad that Fred was not too badly off. He looked over Percy's shoulder to ask Hermione get out her bottle of Dittany to deal the gash of Fred's head, when he was hit with a chilling realization. The second set of screams was coming from Hermione's mouth and tears were streaming from her eyes. His first instinct was that she too had been injured, but her scream was not one of physical pain. Then he saw them: a pair of legs stretched out across the rubble. He looked again to Hermione as she desperately screamed, "Ron, please wake up! Please, please, please." She pulled at Ron's collar tugging him up towards her. Harry jumped over Fred's body, towards Ron and Hermione, nearly knocking Percy over in the process. What he saw sent Harry into a near panic. There, lying on the debris covered ground was his best friend. Ron's head was covered in blood and lolling to the side as Hermione roughly shook him, trying to coax him to consciousness. Harry knelt on next to his friend and grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse. He found none. His hands moved to Ron's neck hoping to find a pulse there, but again nothing. Finally, he placed his hand on Ron's chest feeling for the gentle thumping of a heartbeat.

The moment seemed to freeze for Harry. His hand rested on Ron's chest as Hermione, tears still streaming from her eyes, stared at him, hoping for something, anything that could tell her that everything was okay. Harry could not look at her. Instead, he stared at Ron's face, hoping that his own hand was now lying to him. Ron could not be dead. After everything they had gone through, to die so close to the end, but the longer Harry sat there the harder it became to deny the horrible truth. Ronald Weasley was dead. No amount of hope was going to change that. Finally, with the greatest amount of effort he had ever had to summon for anything he had ever or would ever do, Harry managed to look back into Hermione's eyes and say, "He's gone."

"No!!!!!" screamed Hermione as looked back at Harry. "He's not dead! He can't be dead, not when we've just…" Hermione was too overcome to finish her sentence. She collapsed on top of Ron's body, crying even harder, slamming her fists onto his chest. Harry didn't know if she was doing this out of anger or fear or some vain attempt to reignite Ron's life. He could only stare on feeling totally helpless.

There was little time to mourn, however, because that was when Aragog's progeny made their own invasion of the castle. Harry stunned a couple of the spiders back before he finally sent one back through the hole in the side of the castle wall and into his brothers and sisters, knocking them all down the outside wall to the ground below. After that, Percy helped Harry place Ron's body in a somewhat safer place before hoisting Fred on his shoulders and carrying him away.

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her away. "NO!" Hermione shouted, "We can't leave him there." As much as he agreed with her, there was no time to carry Ron's body anywhere else. They needed to get somewhere safe. Harry needed to think about what to do next if he could some how manage to get the image of Ron's bloody head out his mind.

They hid in a vacated classroom. Sitting against the wall opposite its closed door and using empty desks for cover, the invisibility cloak haphazrdly thrown over them, Harry held his wand in one hand, pointed towards the door. In the other, he had a tight grip on Hermione. Her head was resting against his shoulder as she continued sobbing, while Harry did his best to hold back his own grief. His best friend, someone with whom he had survived a countless number of brushes with death, was now gone. Was there life after this moment? Could there be?

Harry didn't know how long they were there. He would have been content to spend the rest of the battle just sitting in that classroom, hiding from the world, but the reality of the situation was slowing coming back. The only way that this could be ended, that Ron could be avenged, was to destroy Lord Voldemort. "Hermione…" he finally said in as calming and soothing a voice as he could, "…we've got to pull ourselves together. I know you love him, but right now, there's a battle to be won. We have to finish what we started. That's the only way to end this." His words seemed to work. Hermione lifted her head and looked back at him. He stared back into her tear-filled eyes. "It'll be alright, Hermione. In time, everything will be alright, I promise." She seemed to regain her composure at his words.

"I know Harry. You're right. We have to finish this. I want to…I _need _to help you kill Voldemort." Harry looked deeply into Hermione's eyes, deeper than he ever had before. He knew at once that she was now as determined as he was to get Voldemort. Hermione and he now shared a bond that went much deeper than being close friends. They had both lost someone important to them at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Even if he hadn't killed Ron personally, Voldemort was the cause of all this death and destruction. It was his Death Eaters attacking Hogwarts, injuring and killing the castle's defenders and on his orders. In Harry's mind Voldemort was just as guilty as if he had pulled the trigger himself. "Where is he now?" she asked. "Where's Voldemort Harry? Find him." The tone with which Hermione had spoken was one that Harry had never thought he would ever hear her use. She wanted vengeance, and the fact that she was asking him to do something that she had once so vehemently encouraged him not to do, told Harry how much Hermione wanted to get Voldemort. Harry would have been lying if he denied that a desire for revenge wasn't boiling within him as well, but he knew that now was not the time for mindless rage. He needed clarity. He needed to find Lord Voldemort and his snake, so that they could finish them both.

With several deep breaths, Harry managed to calm himself before closing his eyes. It took surprisingly little effort to slip back into Voldemort's mind. The image was clear: Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy in the Shrieking Shack. Malfoy was concerned about his son, but Voldemort didn't care in the least about Draco. He wanted Lucius to bring him Snape. For what reason, Harry did not know or care. He knew where Voldemort was. He knew where they had to go. "He's in the Shrieking Shack."

"Let's go Harry."

As his dream so often did, the dream skipped the next several minutes of his Harry's memories. He had realized a few years before that this dream was about the events that started he and Hermione down the path to becoming lovers. While the moments that the dream brushed past were important to how he defeated Voldemort, they had little to do with why Hermione now lay in his arms. So the dream skipped past his and Harry and Hermione's journey underneath the invisibility cloak through the battle, how they secretly stunned any Death Eaters they came across along the way, and chasing the spiders as they carried Hagrid away. Harry did not have to re-live the moments where he was unable to conjure a Patronus to fend off the dementors without the help of his friends or when they had run from the giants to the Whomping Willow. He did not have to watch again as Voldemort ordered Nagini to kill Snape, or the look on Snape's face as he handed them his memories. The dream now placed Harry on his and Hermione's return from the Shrieking Shack.

Hermione was keeping a tight grip on Harry's arm as they walked back to the castle. The battle had now been fully pushed inside of the school, but its path of destruction was still left behind for them to walk through. Scattered about the lawn leading into the castle were the bodies of the dead and wounded. Many of them groaned in pain, while the others lay eerily still. Harry tried to ignore the moans that he heard. It was too dark out to identify any one specifically. He only hoped that not too many of his friends were counted amongst the numbers of dead. He and Hermione remained hidden under the invisibility cloak, not stopping to look or render assistance to their injured friends. They needed to get to Dumbledore's pensieve to see what memories Snape had left them in his final moments.

Harry knew that there was something important now contained in the small vial that Hermione had conjured up. What it was, Harry did not know, but he had a feeling that it might be a way to defeat Voldemort. He didn't know why he thought this. Maybe Snape had realized, all too late, the same thing that Malfoy's had already realized: Voldemort didn't care about anyone who presented an obstacle in his path to power, no matter how loyal they had been to him. Now, perhaps Snape, in his last moments, was trying to stop his former master in some final act of redemption.

They stopped when the finally entered the castle, trying to take in the sights of the battle before them. Rubble for the stone walls and shattered statues was strewn about the floor of the castle mixed in with different pieces from the various suits of armor that had been brought to life to defend the castle. More bodies of the injured and dead lay amongst the stone debris, many of them were people that Harry knew from school, but not anyone he was terribly close to.

The battle now seemed to be centered in and nearby the Great Hall. Harry saw Fred, George, and Percy standing on the staircase landing firing off spells up and down the staircase at Death Eaters. Neville and Professor Sprout were doing a remarkable job with the Venomous Tentacula plants, having wrapped up three Death Eaters. Padma Patil and Katie Bell were also holding their own against a Death Eater.

The Great Hall, itself, looked nothing like the place that Harry had been just earlier that evening. The teachers' table and three of the four students' tables were split into pieces, some of which were turned on their sides and either being used by some of the combatants for cover or were on fire, filling the hall with smoke. Through the smoke, Harry could just make out Madame Pomfrey moving quickly amongst the wounded defenders of Hogwarts, tending to them and healing their wounds as best she could under combat conditions. Professor Sinistra was standing guard over her, in case any Death Eaters thought it might be sporting to attack the Hogwarts matron as she tried to heal the wounded. There were other figures there, but with the smoke, it was difficult to make up any one person in particular.

Harry and Hermione continued forward. Harry fired off several stunning spells, which provided his friends with a better fighting chance, but they did not stop to offer any more help. Snape's memories, still harbored in the small flask, were more important. As they got nearer to the entrance of the Great Hall, the combatants came into better focus. Harry could see Dean and Seamus as they both fought. He could also make out Hannah Abbott, Oliver Wood, and Ernie MacMillan. It was difficult to tell which Death Eaters were there, as many were still wearing their hoods, although Harry could definitely see Dolohov, Yaxley, Fenrir Greyback, and, despite the noise of the battle, the distinctive cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange was clearly audible.

They were almost past the entrance to the Great Hall, when something out of the corner of Harry's eye grabbed his attention. He stopped. "What is it?" Hermione asked, but he was not paying attention. Harry turned slowly, hoping that what he had seen was a figment of his imagination, but even at 50 yards away and through all the smoke and figures of those still fighting, the girl with the flowing red hair was unmistakable. Ginny, along with Luna and Parvati Patil, were trying to take on Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry immediately broke from the protection of the invisibility cloak and ran into the Great Hall, ignoring Hermione's shouts begging him to return. He had to intervene, to protect Ginny. Even at three to one odds, he knew that they were no match for Bellatrix. He made his way through the crowd of combatants, repeatedly shoving people out of his way and stunning a couple of Death Eaters along the way, but all of them, friend and foe alike, were slowing Harry down.

Two flicks from Bellatrix's wand were all that it took to deal with Parvati and Luna. They both fell to the ground, stunned. That left only Ginny. "Come on little Weasley, shall we make it two of you blood traitors tonight?" he heard the sadistic woman say. Harry began moving with more desperation, but no matter how hard he pushed himself, he was moving too slowly, as though he was wading through a pool of waist deep water.

He was still yards away but had managed to get himself into a place where he had a perfect line of sight on Bellatrix. He raised his wand and yelled "STUPEFY!" At that same moment, Dean Thomas was pushed back into him. The collision sent Harry to the ground and his stunning spell into the wall behind the smoldering ruins of the teacher's dining table. With an unconscious Dean pinning him to the ground, Harry could only look on as it happened.

The world was suddenly moving in slow motion. The flash of green erupted from the end of Bellatrix's wand and flew at Ginny, hitting her square in the chest. A look of surprise came over Ginny's face, and then she fell to the ground. "GINNY!!! NO!!!!" Harry roared so loudly, that all those near him seemed to stop what they were doing. He unceremoniously shoved Dean off of him, leapt to his feet, and began moving towards Bellatrix Lestrange with determined purpose. He had to get to Ginny. _She hasn't been hit with the killing curse. __She's still alive. If I can get to her I can save her, _he thought, denying the truth he already knew.

Bellatrix had turned when Harry screamed. She immediately began throwing taunts towards Harry, "Aww was that your little girlfriend Potter? Do you want to have a go with me now? Come on little Potter, let's play. Let's have some fun, and when we're done, I'll take what's left of you to the Dark Lord, so he can finish you."

But even as she taunted Harry her face was showing a look of fear that refused to leave. The rage that he had suppressed at Ron's death, was now flowing uncontrolled. Harry made no attempt to hide it. He wanted blood. Perhaps she had seen the same look in her Lord and Master when he had been angry.

Bellatrix sent a curse at Harry. Not really knowing nor caring how, he blocked it with ease. She sent another and another, Harry blocked them all. Somewhere in the background he heard a woman's voice scream out, "Not Ginny!" He knew it was Mrs. Weasley. He saw her out of the corner of his eye running towards her daughter, but he was not really paying attention. His focus was solely on Bellatrix Lestrange. The rest of the world was a hazy blur, as though both of them were somehow separate from it. He hadn't even noticed that the fighting in the Great Hall had stopped or that almost every eye in the room was now focused on him and Bellatrix. Harry continued moving forward, his every step telling his purpose. Her fear seemed to become more and more apparent with every step he took and every spell he deflected.

Just feet away from Lestrange he pointed his wand. "CRUCIO!" erupted from his mouth. The force of the spell knocked Bellatrix Lestrange ten feet back and to the ground, writhing in agony. Although his anger was righteous, this time he meant to cause her the most severe pain possible. He kept his wand pointed at her, continuing her agony, for several seconds longer, until Harry suddenly found himself standing over her, his wand pointed directly at the person who had just murdered the woman he loved. She looked up at him showing more fear in her eyes than Harry had ever seen in another person. Harry knew why she was afraid. Anyone in the room could see that murder was in Harry's eyes. All he had to do was say it; he desperately wanted to say it. It was not as though she didn't deserve it. It was not as though the world wouldn't be a better place without her. Then a voice popped into his head. It was the calming of love and compassion. It was Ginny's voice. _Harry you don't have to do this. __You're not a murderer. You aren't Voldemort_. The urge to kill drained away from Harry. No, he could not kill Bellatrix Lestrange. It would do nothing to bring Ginny back, and he could never sink down to the level of Lord Voldemort. Harry lowered his wand but continued to stare down at Bellatrix. Her look changed from fear to a look of sneering triumph. "Awww…wee little Potter's too scared…"

"STUPEFY" Harry yelled, and the stunning spell shot out from the tip of his wand, rendering Bellatrix Lestrange unconscious.

Suddenly, the loud high pitched voice of Voldemort flooded the Great Hall. He was calling for his Death Eaters to return and giving Harry an hour to come out to meet him.

As the remaining Death Eaters vacated the Great Hall and the castle, Harry looked over towards Ginny's body to see Mrs. Weasley wailing over what had once been the woman he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The rest of the Weasley family was all there at her side now. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Fleur were all trying to comfort her, which was difficult considering that they were holding back their own tears with little success. Fred and George both just stared down at their sister's lifeless body, too much in shock to do anything else. Harry knew that their grief was just beginning. He watched as Percy, obviously injured, limped up and whispered something into Mr. Wesley's ear. Mr. Weasley immediately fell to his knees, now overcome with grief at the news that Ron was also gone. Within a few seconds, the entire Weasley family was as bad off as Mrs. Weasley. As much as he wanted to go and be with them, to mourn with them, he could not bring himself to do it. He did not want to see Ginny that way.

Harry felt a hand gently touch him on his shoulder. He turned to see Hermione. Tears were again flowing from her eyes. "Harry…I'm so…sorry," she said. Harry could tell that she wanted to say more but really could not find the proper words.

For the first time that night, Harry truly felt as though he was at his limit. He struggled to hold back the tears. He knew that no one would begrudge him them now. It was so near the surface now that it would be easy to just let it all out. But Harry could not do that, not while Voldemort was out there waiting for him. "I'm alright…" he finally managed to say.

"No, you're not Harry. How could you be?"

"I meant…I'm alright for now." Harry looked down at Hermione. "I have to finish this first. There will be time for tears when this is done." Hermione gave him a sort of smile. "Go, you should be with the Weasleys. I'll come find you when I know what we need to do next."

Much to his surprise, Hermione did not argue with him. Instead, she gave him a long, tight hug before joining the Weasleys. Harry slipped back under the invisibility cloak and went to Dumbledore's old office to look at Snape's memories. Once again, the dream moved ahead. Harry was now walking into the Dark Forest. He had just left the castle and everyone that he cared about behind. It had been hard a walk through the castle, but he hadn't stopped for fear that he would not be able to continue with what had to be done. The memories of seeing the Weasley family, still distraught over the loss of Ron and Ginny were still fresh in his mind. He had heard Mrs. Weasley frantically asking if anyone had seen Harry. She seemed to know that Harry was going to face Voldemort, although everyone tried to tell her that Harry would never be so foolish. He had also seen Hermione sitting next to Ron's body. Tears were streaming from her eyes. Harry found it hardest of all to leave Hermione behind. She had lost one of her friends already, and now she was about to lose another friend. More than anything, Harry had wanted to go to her and explain what he had to do and why, but he couldn't. As much as she would understand why it had to be done, he also knew that she would try to talk him out of it, telling him that there had to be another way. However, Harry could see no other way. He was one of Voldemort's horcruxes. As long as he remained alive, so to would Voldemort. He had to die. So he left the castle and headed into the Dark Forest. No one, except Neville, had seen him leave.

It was in the forest that Harry finally figured out how to open the Golden Snitch left to him by Dumbledore. Out popped the Resurrection Stone. He turned it over in his hand three times. There they were, the six of them standing in front of him, not really there but not ghosts either. His mother had told him how brave he was. He spoke to Lupin, then to Sirius. Sirius had just told him that it dying didn't hurt, when Ron chimed in, "It's not so bad really, being dead…kind of peaceful, actually." Harry turned to Ron, saddened by the fact that his friend was now here instead of back at the castle with Hermione, where he belonged. "I'm sorry that I got you involved in all this, Ron. I wished you'd've had more time with Hermione."

"Don't worry, mate, I knew what I was getting myself into. It was my choice. You're my friend Harry. I couldn't very well let you run off and Listen Harry, it's been fun being your friend. Well, most of it has been fun anyways. There were those other few parts…well…best not to mention them really. Don't worry about Hermione. I mean, it's my own bloody fault for taking so long. I just had to go out with Lavender Brown last year. At least I got to snog her in the end, huh?" Harry couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

Then, Harry's gaze fell on to Ginny. She was smiling at him. She was still so beautiful. "Ginny, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ended things with you. I shouldn't have been so stupid. I just wanted to…"

"Shh Harry." Ginny said very gently. "Don't say anymore. I know you didn't want to break things off with me. You were trying to protect me, I know that, and it makes me feel good to know that you wanted to protect me because I knew that you loved me."

"I still do love you." Harry said quickly, not knowing it would be the only time he would ever get a chance to say those words to Ginny.

"I know you do, Harry. I'll always be thankful that I got to have you. That's all that matters to me. I love you Harry Potter."

Even in death, Ginny was a comfort to him. More than ever, he wished could take her into his arms, to show her how much she meant to him. Harry felt a greater understanding and sympathy for Cadmus now.

"Don't cry son," Harry's father said. It was only then that Harry realized that there were tears in his eyes. "You've been lucky enough to experience something that so few people ever do. You've been able to truly love someone. You will always have that."

Harry's gaze finally returned to his mother, finding as much comfort in her eyes as he had with Ginny just moments before. They walked on, Ginny to his immediate left and his mother to his right. It was comforting knowing that the two women he cared most about were on either side of him, walking him to his death. He took solace in the fact that, in a very short time, he would be with all of them once again.

**_Notes: Sorry for the delay in getting this out. I have a few things on my plate, and it can be hard to find the time to write and re-write the chapter when I have few distractions. As this chapter and the one to follow were originally one much larger chapter I should have it ready to go in a much shorter time. I would also like to know what everyone thinks about this story. So any and all reviews and criticisms are welcome. Don't worry, I can take it._**


	3. Accepting Hard Choices

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This is a work of fanfiction only. _**

**As with the previous chapter, if you have not read J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows yet, you might have some difficulty following parts of this chapter. I am sorry for the delays in getting this chapter out. While much of it had already been written, I decided to add a touch more to it and change some things around. That meant more editing and re-writes. Enjoy this with my compliments, and as always, please feel free to write a review. I want to know what you think. **

**Accepting Hard Choices**

In the dark moonlit bedroom, Hermione rolled over in her sleep. Her head was now resting on Harry's right shoulder and her arm across his chest. This did not stir Harry from his slumber. The dream was keeping him in the depths of sleep. It was fast approaching its end and would soon shock Harry back to consciousness.

Harry was now past the point when Voldemort had hit him with the killing curse, destroying the part of the Dark Lord's soul that had once been encased in his body. He found himself sitting next to Dumbledore in the ethereal version of King's Cross Station, the point between life and death. Harry now knew the truth about so many things. The reason his wand had behaved as it did so many months before, the Deathly Hallows, and Dumbledore's relationship with his family and with Grindewald, were all fresh in his mind. But of all the things Harry had just learned, the most important of these was that he was not dead, at least not yet. Harry now had a choice to make. He could move on to the next great adventure, as Dumbledore had called it, or he could return to life.

Harry reflected on the prospect of death. It was something he once feared, but now he was basking in the warmth of a future of happiness free of pain. There would be no Voldemort or Death Eaters there. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Ron and Ginny would all be there, people that he loved and cared about most of all would be there waiting for him. His thoughts lingered on the possible future that he could now have with Ginny. As much as it seemed like an easy choice to make, something was holding Harry back from accepting death and moving on.

A memory of something Dumbledore had said years before intruded into his thoughts. It was something about choosing between what was right and what was easy. Choosing the next great adventure would be the easy choice, but Harry knew all too well that it was not the right one to make. He thought of the world he would be leaving behind, a world ruled by Lord Voldemort. "I have to go back, don't I," Harry said. It was not a question.

"Harry, that is a decision only you can make," Dumbledore answered. Harry frowned slightly. "I do not wish to get too personal, Harry, but am I correct in assuming that when you used the Resurrection Stone, Ronald and the young Miss Weasley were amongst those loved ones who appeared to you?" Harry gave a solemn nod to the question. "Ahh, that explains the difficulty you are having." They sat quietly for a moment before Dumbledore spoke again, "Harry, no one knows better than I what you have gone through in your life and all that you have lost. Goodness knows that of any person in this world you deserve peace and happiness. Choosing to move on to the next life would give you that opportunity. It is a 'consumation devoutly to wish'd,' as Mr. Shakespeare so accurately put it. I would completely understand and would not fault you in the least if you made the choice to continue on, but Harry, if I know you, even in the slightest, you have already made your decision to do just the opposite."

Harry nodded again. Before this moment, Harry had taken solace in the fact that he would not have to mourn the deaths of Ginny, Ron, Lupin, and Tonks because he was going to them all very soon. With Voldemort left in control, the world of the living would be nothing but pain and misery for anyone and everyone. His thoughts turned to Hermione, the one true friend he still had left in that world and what life would be like for her. Being one of his closest friends and a muggle born would mean that, at best, she would have to spend the rest of her life on the run, and that was only if she managed to escape. If she was captured…Harry shuddered to think of what might happen to her then. Images of her being given to Fenrir Greyback flashed through his mind.

He could not leave Hermione to that fate, not when it was within his power to prevent it.

"Harry, I know it is not an easy choice…"

"But it's the right one," Harry said quickly.

Dumbledore smiled gently and put his hand on Harry's shoulder in a very reassuring way.

Harry was aware of the costs of his decision. They were already creeping in upon him. He would now have to mourn the loss of Remus and Tonks, but most of all, he would have to mourn for Ron and Ginny. Even the knowledge that he would one day be reunited with all of them did not seem to help much. That day would be, perhaps, years or decades from this moment. Until then, Harry would some how have to learn to live without Ron or Ginny. It was a terrible burden but one that Harry was willing to bear. Harry pushed his feelings of sadness back once more. He still had work to do, work that could not be clouded by the pain of grief.

For one last time, the dream moved forward. Harry was again in the world of the living, now lying on the ground at Voldemort's feet, forcing his body to appear as a lifeless corpse. He found himself surprised to feel warmth coming from the Dark Lord's body. If anything, Harry would have expected nothing but coldness. The sound of McGonagall's awful cry was still ringing through Harry's ears, as was the equally awful laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange, who had somehow escaped while he was viewing Snape's memories. Harry had been disheartened to discover Bellatrix waiting with for him with Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters, although it was obvious that the Dark Lord was not very pleased with his best lieutenant for getting herself captured at the hands of the Boy Who Lived.

Harry's mind, however, was not on Bellatrix's escape. It was not important how she had gotten out or even that she had. What was important to him now was finding the perfect moment to return to life. He listened as the Hogwarts defenders gathered around the entrance to the castle. Some of them were muttering in disbelief while others were just crying. Harry suddenly found an uncomfortable feeling surging through his body, as though something he could not control was about to happen.

"NO! HARRY!!" Hermione screamed. It was the most terrible sound Harry had ever heard in his life. Then he heard the pounding footsteps of someone running forward. They were followed by a loud bang and another scream from Hermione's mouth.

"Which one is this?" Voldemort asked. Harry could feel the Dark Lord step away from his body.

"It is the Granger girl, my Lord." Harry heard Lucius Malfoy reply.

"Ah yes, one of Harry Potter's closest friends. By all means, let her come forward. Let her prove to them all that their saviour is dead," he heard Voldemort say in an almost celebratory tone. "Come on little girl, tell them all that Harry Potter is no more."

"Get over there," Dolohov sneered. Harry dared a quick peek through the slits of his eyes to see Hermione being shoved forward towards him. He watched a half-second longer, long enough to see her take a running step towards him. He closed his eyes and waited. In just over a heartbeat, Harry felt Hermione kneel down beside him. He could hear her sniffling back the tears. Then a pair of warm, very soft, and very trembling hands gently placed themselves on either side of his face. Harry held his breath as he felt her lean closer to him. She was very close to him now, close enough that he could smell the mixture of smoke, sweat, and tears coming from Hermione. "Oh, please Harry. Not you too. Please not you…" Her voice trailed off into sobs. He felt a tear drop land on his cheek. It was so hard for Harry to keep himself from reacting to Hermione. More than anything he wanted to open his eyes and whisper back to her that he was not gone, that everything was going to be alright. But he feared how Hermione would react, feared that she would never be able to fully conceal the truth that Harry Potter was indeed alive and waiting for his moment to strike back.

Hermione remained leaning over Harry for several more seconds before Bellatrix yelled out "All right, that's enough crying over your dead boyfriend, you filthy Mudblood!"

"DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!" Hermione screamed as Harry felt her being pulled away from him. Hermione nudged his body several times with her knees as she struggled to break free of Bellatrix's grasp. Harry just went with the movements, suppressing the urge to protect his body each time Hermione's knees bumped into him. Finally, Hermione must have broken free because Harry next felt her lips pressing on his forehead, giving him a long kiss goodbye.

"Ahh…how touching," Voldemort's voice said, echoing his triumph. "Too bad Dumbledore's theories on love are not enough to resurrect your hero. I would liked to have killed him in a proper duel."

"YOU BASTARD!" Hermione screamed. Harry felt her leave his side quickly. He knew she was going to charge at Voldemort. There was another loud bang and he heard Hermione hit the ground, crying.

"Oh, it is a shame that you are Muggleborn. From all that I have heard you are quite a clever witch, and you seem to have great bravery as well. We could use someone like you. Unfortunately, we cannot allow your Muggle blood to contaminate the new society we are going to build." Voldemort said.

"Oh that's rich coming from you," Hermione said defiantly. "Have you forgotten that your own father was a Muggle, Tom Riddle!"

A collective gasp was issued from the onlookers. "How dare you speak such lies about the Dark Lord," Bellatrix raged. "My Lord, please let me deal with this filthy little Mudblood. I will make her pay for her insolence."

"Thank you, Bella, but no. I can attend to this myself." Harry opened his eyes just enough to see Hermione on the ground, propping herself up on her elbows, staring defiantly at Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord stared right back down at her. Harry felt nothing but dread at that moment. He knew what was coming, yet he did nothing. He just lay there, watching as Voldemort raised his wand and yelled "Crucio!". The curse sent Hermione writing and screaming in pain.

Harry's eyes flashed open to the darkness of his bedroom. His heart was pounding in his chest and his face was covered in a cold sweat. He always woke up at the same point in the dream, never before or later. Hermione's screams of pain still echoed in his mind. He blinked his eyes several times, just to be sure that he was now awake. Then he felt the warm arm stretched out across his bare chest and the scent of strawberries from tidy mass of hair now resting against his shoulder. Yes, he was again conscious. The dream was over. Harry was back in the real world, and the past was once again just a very bad memory.

Harry got out of bed carefully, so as not to wake Hermione. As he pulled his arm out from underneath her head, she rolled over onto her other side, facing away from him. He looked at her for a moment, again admiring how beautiful and amazing she was. _How could I have been so blind? _Harry thought to himself. He put his robe on and made his way to the bathroom. When he flipped the bathroom light switch, the brightness of the lights forced Harry to close his eyes in order to protect them the harsh light. As he stood there, waiting for his eyes to become more accustomed to the light, Harry's thoughts recounted the dream he had just woken up from. It was only then that he realized how early both instances of the dream had begun. The dream usually began at the point when he was on the ground at Voldemort's feet, forcing him to only relive the moments when Hermione was writing in agony under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. On one other occasion had his dream forced him to live through the deaths of Ron and Ginny.

He knew why their deaths had been present tonight. While a day had not passed when Harry did not give them both at least some thought, for almost two months now, Ron and Ginny had been on his thoughts with much greater frequency. It was during this period of time when Harry really began to come to terms with his feelings for Hermione.

Until a few weeks ago, Harry would never have called Hermione his girlfriend, let alone ever say that he loved her. She was just his best and closest friend in the world, nothing more. Even at those times when they were not together and he felt a great longing to see her, Harry simply told himself that it was only because he missed his best friend's company. When they went out or spent time together, even though it was happening on an almost daily basis, he never saw them as going out on dates or being romantic in the least. Harry preferred to think of their time together as nothing other than two very good friends hanging out with one another. Granted, even good friends normally don't end their evenings making passionate love to one another and happily waking up in each others arms the following morning. Harry had always preferred to see this as what Muggles called "friends with benefits" and nothing more.

Of course, Harry now knew that he had been in denial. He had been in denial because he felt guilty. Ron had been in love with her, and even though he was dead, this fact should have made Hermione off limits to Harry. By being in love with her, Harry was betraying his best friend. He also could not forget Ginny. How could he be in love with someone else when he was still so much in love with Ginny? Yet, Harry was in love with Hermione. Denying the truth had been the only way for him to assuage the guilt that he felt.

Then, not quite two months ago, the day came when Harry journeyed to Hogwarts. He had gone there to attend the dedication ceremony of the portrait of Severus Snape, something Harry had lobbied long and hard for with the Hogwarts Board of Governors. After the ceremony, Harry spent the day giving lectures to the advanced Defense Aagainst the Dark Arts classes. When the day's classes were finished, Professor McGonagall, now in her final year as Headmistress of Hogwarts, told him that Professor Dumbledore, or rather his portrait, wanted a few private words with Harry. Harry gladly accepted the invitation. When he left the meeting, Harry had a new perspective on his life. It was not something that he had wanted to hear, but rather, something he needed to hear.

It did not happen immediately, but over the next several weeks, Harry gradually began to see the truth. He began to realize that everything he felt for Hermione had gone far beyond a strong bond of friendship. He was deeply in love with her. It was this gradual process of acceptance that had brought Ron and Ginny to the forefront of his thoughts. He began to ask the same old questions he had asked himself before: Would they both understand? Would they be okay with it? Harry tried to tell himself that they would, but it was never enough.

The process of acceptance had culminated on just the previous evening. He and Hermione were having a nice quiet dinner at a muggle café, when he found his hand in hers, and he was staring deeply into her eyes. Harry had looked deeply into Hermione's eyes many times before but now something was different. It was one of those few moments in a person's life when everything seems to slow down, giving the person unusual clarity and focus. For the first time, Harry actually noticed the way she was staring back at him. She had the same look of intensity and desire on her face that he was sure was on his own. He knew right then and there how she felt about him and how he felt about her.

However, Harry did not say the words that needed to be said. He had been too lost in the moment to say them. Now, standing there in the bathroom, looking at his own blurry reflection in the mirror, he wished that he could kick himself very hard, and in a very rude place, for not saying them at dinner, or even as they made love that night.

As Hermione fell asleep in his arms and the strawberry scent of her hair filled his nose, Harry decided that it was time to damn the guilt and move his relationship with Hermione forward. His decision meant that the dream would come again that night, and with Ron and Ginny having been so much in his thoughts recently, it was little wonder why their deaths had been a part of the dreams. Perhaps it was his mind's way of reminding him that they were dead, that it was okay to move. Whatever the reason, the time for feeling guilty was now passed. Although he was certain that the guilt would be ever present, Harry was willing to pay that price for his choice to love Hermione now and forever.


	4. The Secret Life of Henry Evans

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is a work of fan-fiction only._**

**The Secret Life of Henry Evans**

After splashing some cold water on his face, Harry returned to the darkness of the bedroom. He glanced over at the alarm clock sitting on his night table. Despite not having his glasses on, the green glowing numbers were oversized so that even he could read them from ten feet away. It read 4:32 a.m. He'd slept for just over four hours, but he would hardly call any of that sleep restful. As tired as he was, Harry did not wish to sleep anymore. Having the dream twice in one night was enough, and he was certain that it would come a third time if he chose to sleep again. He decided to get dressed and start his Sunday morning.

His eyes were still accustomed to the light of the bathroom, making the bedroom appear much darker. However, he had lived in this house for over a year now. He knew his bedroom well enough that he could walk through it blindfolded and still not bump into any of the furniture. So, Harry had little trouble finding his dresser in the dark. He carefully opened the drawers. Since Kreacher always neatly folded and placed his freshly laundered clothes in the same place, Harry had no difficulty in finding the clothes he wanted to wear. He pulled out a pair of sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a pair of warm woolen socks.

As he quietly dressed, Harry refused to allow his eyes to take even a quick glance at his bed. In his tired state, he was afraid the sight of it would be too much of a temptation to resist. Even now thoughts of crawling back into the bed, snuggling up next to Hermione, and feeling the warmth of her body as their flesh pressed against one other was eagerly calling to him. But Harry resisted. He was soon dressed and pulling his heavy terrycloth bathrobe on for a little added warmth on this cold autumn morning. Finally, Harry retrieved his glasses and wand from the night table, the green glow from illuminated numbers of the alarm clock making it easy to find them both.

He crossed the bedroom, still ignoring the invitation to return to his bed. By the time he reached the door, Harry's eyes were once again used to the dark. He finally allowed himself one last look at Hermione. She was still lying on her side, facing him. The bed sheet had ridden down her body so that it now lay across her waist, covering only her legs. Despite the fact that Hermione had unconsciously curled herself up into the fetal position in order to preserve her body's warmth, Harry was able to clearly see her bare breasts, now cradled in one of her arms. He marveled at how beautiful she looked right at this moment. He could not resist crossing back over to the bed to look at her more closely. Carefully, Harry brushed her hair back giving him full view of her face. She looked so peaceful and content now. He gazed upon her beauty for a few seconds longer before he lifted the covers further up her body. Then he leaned down and gently kissed her cheek before whispering into her ear, "I love you." He left the bedroom, quietly closed the door behind him, raised his wand, and said "Lumos."

Even if she could not hear him, Harry needed to say those words. It was the first step he had to take. The next step, Harry knew, would be infinitely harder than the first. In the morning, he would have to say those very words again, this time to her face as she looked back at him. Harry was almost certain that she felt the same way, but there was still some doubt in his mind. The truth was he and Hermione had never really discussed their relationship before. In the past, Harry had never given this fact a second thought. For him even discussing the subject of their relationship would have been an admission, on his part, that there might actually be something more there. At the time, Harry had not yet been ready to make such an admission. As he walked down the stairs to the ground floor, Harry realized that his doubts were fueled by the fact that Hermione had never once tried to broach this subject before. Harry could never claim to be an expert about women, but from all of the romantic movies Hermione liked to make him watch, he was sure that she would have brought up the subject at some point. Maybe she didn't feel that way about him. Perhaps he had misread the look that was on her face the evening before.

Whatever the case, Harry knew he had to tell her. He had to get things out into the open.

He wished now that he had slept longer. Harry did not look forward to the prospect of spending the next few hours thinking about what he had to say to her. Too much thinking tended to cloud one's judgement, to sap courage, and make people doubt the things that had to be done. Harry decided to pass the time by immersing himself into his work. He had several reports to go through, most of which he already knew were worthless, but they had to be read nonetheless. If he got lucky, one or two of them might have some useful leads. Before even considering sitting down at the desk in his study, however, Harry needed a mug of coffee. The caffeine would help keep him from falling asleep and drooling all over his desk.

He crossed the living room and into the kitchen. After turning the lights on, Harry said "Nox!" and the tip of his wand ceased burning. The coffee maker was in its usual place on the counter top, and Kreacher had already set it up to brew the morning's coffee. All Harry had to do was push a button and the coffee maker went into action. As he listened to rumbling sound of the coffee brewing, Harry looked over his kitchen. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the thought of this house that he now called his home. It was a modest but charming semi-detached house at Number 8 Endicott Road. It was a quiet little street in a quiet little neighborhood of a small town just outside of London. To any outside observer, this appeared to be a common Muggle home. It contained many of the modern accoutrements that Muggles took for granted: electricity, a refrigerator, a home entertainment system, a stereo, and even a seldom used home computer with internet access. A late-model mid-sized sedan that Harry regularly drove currently sat in the driveway. The only abnormal thing one might notice was that most of the rooms in the house were actually larger than what they should have been. Hermione had gotten quite good at enlargement charms.

After his defeat of Lord Voldemort, Harry's already abundant fame only grew further. While he had long since accepted the notoriety as part and parcel of being who he was, Harry still did not like the awe-struck stares he continued to receive. This was the main reason why he had chosen this house to live in. For a few hours of every day, Harry could escape the fame and be a normal person. Here he was not Harry Potter, the now world famous wizard who defeated Lord Voldemort. The irony that Harry had chosen the Muggle world as the place where he could find some sort of respite was not lost him. He found it to be mildly amusing, in point of fact.

The security measures Harry had taken to keep this home a secret would have made "Mad Eye" Moody proud. Except for those people he most trusted, no one in the wizarding world knew where Harry actually resided. Official Ministry records showed that Harry still lived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place in London. However, if anyone did manage to enter that particular house, providing they could even see it at all, they would only find the workshop Harry had allowed Fred and George Weasley build in order to develop new products for their now famous joke shop chain. Although bought and paid for by Harry, if anyone were to look up the ownership records for the property at Number Eight Endicott Road, they would find that the deed was held by Wendell and Monica Wilkins, a retired couple now living out their years in Australia.

Using the false identities once created for her parents as the owners of the house had been Hermione's idea, but the final touch in Harry's plan of security was all his. If the house was owned by a retired couple living in Australia, and someone was living there, then that person needed a name and a past. While the name Potter was not uncommon, Harry doubted that there were too many Potters with his first name. Even though it was in a Muggle town, any witch or wizard with a decent amount of investigative ability, such as Rita Skeeter, would have little difficulty finding his house. One thought had been to use the Fidelius Charm to hide the house, but in order for that to work, Harry would have to be reclusive in his own home, something he did not want.

Thus was born Henry Evans, the nephew of Wendell and Monica Wilkins. The Wilkins's allowed their nephew to live in the house for a modest rental fee. To his neighbors, Henry was a junior level civil servant with one of the more obscure departments within Her Majesty's Government; obscure enough that Henry's neighbors were not all that interested in the goings on his little section of government. Finding it easiest to use the lie Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had told Harry for nearly ten years, Henry's parents had been killed in a car crash when he still an infant, leaving him with a rather interesting scar on his forehead and in the care of his mother's sister and her family. Henry's parents had left him a small fortune that, while not enough to secure an opulent lifestyle, allowed him to live beyond the normal means for a low-level government bureaucrat. From all appearances, Henry seemed to be a normal young man. He had a girlfriend, mowed his small patch of lawn regularly, and liked to watch the occasional football match on the television. Henry's neighbors found him to be a modest but friendly and sociable person perfectly willing to attend the occasional back yard barbecue. He preferred his privacy, but that was nothing terribly unusual. The only unusual thing about Henry Evans was that none of his neighbors could rightly recall ever having seen the inside of his house or even wanting to for that matter. A couple of Muggle repelling charms made sure of that.

This life would end, of course. Harry had, at best, three years here before knowledge of who he was would soon get out. This was thanks to young Charlie Chesterton, an eight year old boy who lived three houses down from Harry. Of all the Muggles in this neighborhood, children and adults alike, Charlie had been the only person to be unaffected by the Muggle repelling charms set on Harry's house. Just the previous spring, Charlie was walking door-to-door selling candy for a school fundraiser. Harry was surprised to see Charlie standing in his doorway, but he remained polite, even purchasing a couple of the quite awful tasting chocolate bars from the boy. After a few discreet inquiries, Harry found that little Charlie had the reputation of being a slightly odd little boy, around whom unusual, even unexplainable, things occasionally seemed to occur. Harry knew then that in about three years time, Charlie and his parents would receive a visitor from Hogwarts, and they would learn the truth about Charlie's little oddities. Of course, there were no guarantees that Charlie's parents would even be willing to let their son attend Hogwarts, but if this were the case, Harry had already decided that he would talk to them himself.

Still, Harry was not all that concerned. He had not planned on living here forever. While it afforded him the escape he needed, this house was too much of a reminder of his life on Privet Drive. Besides, if everything worked out as Harry hoped it would, eventually he and Hermione would settle down in a house that they chose together.

**So, did you like it? Dislike it? Write a review and let me know.**


	5. The Red Notebook

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

**The Red Notebook**

The coffee finished brewing after only a few minutes. It was only enough to fill one of those oversized mugs that Hermione preferred drinking from. The coffee maker had really been set up for her. Harry found the taste of coffee to be too bitter for his liking and rarely ever consumed the beverage. On this morning, however, it was necessary. He poured the dark, steaming liquid into a mug before adding a generous amount of milk and sugar to make it taste better. He took a sip and instantly felt more awake.

After washing out the pot and setting up the coffee maker for Hermione's morning cup, Harry left the kitchen and headed towards his study. The study was at the front of the house, just to the left of the front door. Harry placed the tip of his wand on the door handle and muttered "Alohomora" and the lock clicked. He kept the door locked for good reason. Unlike the other rooms of his house, his study was decidedly un-Muggle. It was the closest thing to the wizarding world that he allowed in this house. The walls were lined with a dark finished oak paneling. A seldom used drinks cabinet containing several glasses, an ice bucket, firewhiskey, and several other more adult beverages, lined the wall next to the door. The center of the room was highlighted by a rather large, overstuffed leather couch with small coffee table, that matched the decor of room, sitting directly in front of it. In front of the coffee table, was an intricately woven Persian rug, flanked on either side by two overstuffed leather chairs that matched the couch. The couch faced a stone fireplace that was placed along the wall of the on the left side of the room. The fireplace was decorated with an intricate carved mantle made of heavy oak. Several framed photographs, whose occupants moved around as though they were alive, sat in a line on top of the mantle. In the center of this line of photographs was the picture of the original Order of Phoenix that Mad-Eye had once shown Harry. He and Hermione had spent many nights snuggled up on the couch together, in front of a roaring fire, reading work-related papers or doing certain other things that sometimes came to mind.

A large, ornate wooden bookcase dominated the right side of the room. The bookcase was set into the wall, stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and ran almost the entire length of the wall. The bookcase was filled with a wide variety of spell, potion, and other wizarding books; more framed photographs; and a variety of other knick-knacks. The bookcase itself was also used to conceal the large picture window that would normally would have been its place, but anyone who looked in this room would never have known that it was there. All they would be able to see was a large bookcase set into the wall. Should anyone decide to peer into the window from outside of the house, a charm had been cast so that Muggles would see what looked to be a normal study.

Harry's desk sat at the far side of the room, facing the door. It was an antique, made of cherry with an inlay of mahogany on the surface, and designed to look as beautiful as it was functional. Behind the desk sat a large, leather bound office chair, and behind that, directly in front of the window, was the credenza that, while being a bit more modern, looked as though it matched the desk perfectly.

One other thing was kept in this room. Concealed in the wall just to the left of Harry's desk, next to the fireplace, was a small storage closet. The closet was originally built as part of the room, but now, only Harry and Hermione knew that it was there. Inside of the rarely opened closet was a large, goblin made safe. The safe contained the usual things one might expect to find: a small stash of galleons for emergencies, a few important papers, and the entire collection of dark magic books Hermione had summoned from Dumbledore's office at the end of their sixth year. They were stored here to keep them out of the hands of people who might use them for dark purposes. McGonagall was aware that Harry was in possession of these books and agreed that he should keep them. While McGonagall would never put them back into student library, there was no guarantee that some future Hogwarts headmaster or headmistress would not make them available for the students to use, and no one seemed too inclined to give some future version of Tom Riddle access to the information he or she would need to become the next great dark wizard.

Initially, Harry and Hermione had tried to destroy them all, but they appeared to be immune to every form of destruction they tried, including burning them in the very same fireplace they were stored next to. Fiendfyre would probably have done the trick, but as unstable as fiendfyre was, it was an option they dared never try. He had thought of storing them in his vault at Gringott's, but ironically, after he, Ron, and Hermione had successfully broken into one of their vaults and escaped, Harry never fully trusted Gringott's security again. So, instead, Harry chose to keep them here, behind a magically concealed door, locked in an indestructible safe that only he had the key for.

Harry crossed over to his desk, tapped the desk lamp with his wand turning it on, and after setting his coffee cup on the desk, he settled into his comfortable leather chair. His attaché case was already sitting on top of the desk, waiting for him. He stared at it a few seconds, thinking about all of the files he had to read over. Being an Auror had not been quite what Harry had expected it would be. He loved his job, but Kingsley and "Mad Eye" had never mentioned all of the paperwork that was involved. Much of Harry's time was now spent reading reports, most of which were either filled with old or useless leads. Then there were the reports that he had to file. These easily outnumbered the reports he had read by at least two to one. There were arrest reports, investigation status reports, and even reports on the reports that he had to read. Harry quickly learned that government bureaucracy was the same, no matter what kind of government it was. At least the Dictaquill that Percy Weasley had given him, for his eighteenth birthday, made the paperwork considerably faster.

This morning, Harry had to finish some paperwork on some old reports for the Walden Macnair case. One of Harry's first assignments, when he entered the Auror Department, was to the task force formed to hunt down ten remaining Death Eaters that had thus far eluded capture. After three years of less than stellar results (only two of them had been brought into custody up to that point) a few changes were made. Despite only being twenty years old at the time, Harry was put in charge of the task force. In the two years since he had taken over, seven of the Death Eaters had been captured and were now serving out life sentences in Azkaban. Harry's success was largely due to the fact that he was willing to use resources that his predecessor was not. Namely, he was willing to use Lucius Malfoy, whose intimate knowledge of the Death Eater organization made him perfect source of information. Lucius, it turned out, was quite willing to provide the information on the backgrounds of all the escaped Death Eaters, possible places they might be hiding, and to even testify against them in the Wizengamot. He did all of this in exchange for the protection of his family. For Harry, this was a small price to pay to capture Voldemort's followers.

With nine of the ten Death Eaters now in prison, the task force had recently been disbanded, and the Aurors involved, including Harry, were assigned to other cases. The Macnair case did still remain in Harry's hands, however. He devoted a couple of hours a week working on it. The last time anyone recalled seeing Macnair was when Hagrid threw him against the wall during the Battle of Hogwarts. At some point, he had obviously regained consciousness and made his escape during the confusion of the battle. Now, he was proving to be surprisingly difficult to catch. On more than one occasion, Harry had been certain of his whereabouts, only to find that Macnair had fled the scene just before the Aurors arrived to arrest him. After Macnair's most recent escape, Harry dashed off a memo to Head of the Auror department. Shortly thereafter, a quiet little investigation was begun into possible leaks within the department. So far, nothing had come from this investigation.

Harry pulled several file folders from his attaché case. He had read these reports already, and every single one of the contained leads that had already been investigated and discarded. Unfortunately, the investigation had gotten to the point where new leads were few and far between. The latest intelligence had put Macnair somewhere in Poland or Lithuania, but this didn't stop people from passing on every little rumor that they heard. Harry was glad that so many people were willing to pass on information. The problem was that most of their information was already old news, and he still had to file a report on it all. Sadly, now that they case was on the back burner, Harry tended to let his written reports slide. Now, he had roughly two weeks worth of reports to file on the Macnair case, and this seemed like as good a time as any to get them finished.

He grabbed the file folder on the top of the stack, opened it, and began scanning over it just to refresh his memory of its contents. After a few minutes, he opened one of the drawers on his desk and pulled out a few sheets of parchemnt before pulling out his Dictaquill and a bottle of ink. The ink bottle was nearly empty, but he had enough to get this first report done. Harry put his wand tip to the Dictaquill and it jumped to life. It dipped itself into the now opened bottle of ink and immediately began writing. As long as Harry kept his wand pointed at the self-writing quill, it would write whatever he was thinking. Five minutes later, the first report was complete, and Harry moved onto the next one in the stack, wishing that he would just take Hermione's advice and not put these off anymore.

He shuffled through the next report just as quickly as the third, still having enough ink to finish the job, but by the time he had finished filing his third report, the ink bottle was empty. Certain that he had a fresh bottle of ink somewhere in his desk, he began rifling through the different drawers. However, the search was proving to be fruitless, and now he was at the bottom left drawer, the last drawer to be searched. His search ended there, not because he finally found a bottle of ink, but because of what he found underneath a stack of bills and other papers. It was something he had forgotten was even in there. He pulled the object out and stared at it for several seconds, contemplating its contents. The object in question was a thick, well-used red colored notebook, just like the kind Muggle school children used for keeping notes or doing homework. He had purchased it from a Muggle store more than five years ago, and this notebook had become, for lack of a better word, Harry's memoirs. At least that's how it had started.

It was never something Harry had meant for anyone else to read and was certainly not meant for publication. Hermione did not even know about it. Started on parchment, Harry began writing the memoir shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. It was a brief period in his life when he was alone and on his own when he had suddenly felt the urge to write down his life's story. At first, Harry thought of it as a way for him to preserve the memories of those he had lost while he could still remember them clearly, before the passage of time dulled and blurred them. The more he wrote, the more his memior began catching up to his present day life. At that point the notebook became something more like a journal where Harry recorded his thoughts on various things from his personal life to current events in the wizarding world. Over time, his journal entries became less and less often. The last entry had been made almost a year before, and Harry could not recall having seen the notebook for several months. The benefit Harry discovered soon after starting the memoirs was that putting his life's story down on paper, especially those memories pertaining to Ron and Ginny, turned out to be theraputic. This notebook helped him get through a very difficult time in his life.

Forgetting about his work, Harry began thumbing through the pages, quickly scanning the chapters he had reserved for Ron and Ginny. He lingered over the chapter he had written about Hermione for a much longer time, taking in every word he had written about her. It now seemed empty to him. There was now so much more to write about her now. He considered writing it all down at this very moment but soon thought better of the notion. That was something for another day when he had a better idea of where things were going to end up. Besides, he didn't have any ink.

Harry found himself reading about events of his life that occurred just following the Battle. The more he read, the more his memories began venturing into his thoughts. His life had been forever changed that day, and Harry had been set about on a new journey, one that had brought him to this very moment.

In the hours that followed his defeat of Lord Voldemort, the Great Hall had become the center of a celebration that had spread across all of Britain. Harry knew he should have felt some kind of relief and even a small amount of happiness that the war was now over, but none of that was there. The only thing that Harry felt was exhaustion, both physically and mentally. The price for his victory had been a much higher one than Harry had wanted to pay, leaving him in no mood for a party. All he really wanted to do was to find some quiet place where he and Hermione could talk, someplace where he might finally be able to let out everything that he had been holding in.

As much as he wanted nothing to do with the celebration, Harry also knew that it was necessary, and that he was the most important reason for that celebration. So, he put on a strong front and pushed all of his emotions back down for just a little while longer. He endured the seemingly endless amount handshakes and offers of congratulations from people he both knew or had never met before in his life. There was also an endless array of questions, mostly having to do with how he had survived the killing curse a second time around. As easy as it was for him to understand the reasons why, it was concept considerably more difficult for others to grasp the concept. The magic involved was unusual and was not an area of normal study by even the most noted wizards.

If some had difficulty understanding Harry's explanation for why Voldemort could not kill him, others seemed to think that there was entirely something different behind his resurrection. A small group of people had come to believe that Hermione had some kind of special magical power to restore life. To their eyes, they had seen Harry lying dead on the ground, they had watched her kiss him on the forehead, and then he was alive again. Much to their disappointment, Harry assured those few people that he had not dead at the time. He had been quite alive and fully aware that Hermione had kissed him. Years later, Harry and Hermione both found considerable amusement in this theory.

Those who did not ask him any questions, instead seemed to want to discuss the final duel between Harry and the Dark Lord. Most everyone, it seemed, was quite surprised by how quickly it was all over. Only one spell cast by each of the duelers and it was suddenly finished. Some had been expecting an epic duel between two great wizards, one that might even have rivaled the now legendary confrontation between Dumbledore and Grindewald. Others had not known what to expect, but it was obvious that no one had expected to see Lord Voldemort dispatched by his own killing curse, especially a killing curse that rebounded off of such a mundane spell as the disarming jinx.

Harry, on the other hand, felt quite the opposite. Lord Voldemort was a victim of his own ineptitudes. It was true he had been a very powerful and intelligent wizard capable doing magic that most people could not even dream of, but it was his lack of knowledge that had been his downfall. Voldemort failed to try to understand even the most basic tenants of things like loyalty, friendship, and most of all, love, because to him, they were subjects unworthy of a wizard with his vast abilities. Yet, it was all of those things that had brought about his ultimate demise. If it had not been for his mother's love, Harry would not have survived not only one killing curse, but two; if Snape had not loved Lily Evans, he might never have betrayed Lord Voldemort; if it had not for Kreacher's loyalty to Regulus, and later to Harry, the horcrux contained in Slytherin's locket might never have been found and destroyed; and if it had not been for Ron and Hermione and their friendship, Harry would never have come close to succeeding. The duel ended in the only possible way that it could have, and Harry thought that it was more than fitting that the darkest wizard of all time went out with a whimper rather than a roar.

Harry made the rounds for almost two hours, talking to anyone and everyone who came up to him. The only people he did not talk to were the Weasley's. Eventually he would have to talk to them, of course. There were so many things that he needed to say, but now was not the time or the place for that. What needed to be said was something for a more private setting. At least that was the excuse Harry preferred using. In fact, he was actually afraid to face them. Apart from Sirius, they were the only real family he had ever known. Mrs. Weasley had once said that he was "as good as" her son, and his dead body had been with every one of the other Weasley children when she confronted that boggart years before at Number Twelve, Grimmald Place. Harry could not help but feel that if it had not been for him, two of their children would still be alive at this moment. So, he avoided them, which was not really all that difficult. Apart from the Malfoy family, who huddled together looking around nervously, the Weasley family seemed to be the only ones not enjoying the festivities, choosing instead to sit together quietly. Only Charlie Weasley had come forward to shake Harry's hand and congratulate him.

Through all of this, Hermione remained at Harry's side, never letting him to get more than five feet away from her. Harry thought this was mostly because at one point during this terrible night, Hermione believed that she had lost her two closest friends. Now that Harry was alive and well, she was not going to allow him to venture very far away out of fear that she might lose him again. Harry understood the sentiment. As much as she needed him at this moment, he needed her at his side just as much. After all that he had lost on this day, he did not want to lose her, as well.

After a while, the crowd of people wanting to offer their congratulations began to thin out to a mere trickle. Most everyone now seemed to be enjoying themselves, talking animatedly about the battle. This was the moment that Harry and Hermione finally found their chance to escape. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" Harry whispered into her ear.

"Yes, I think should," Hermione responded without looking at Harry. While Luna distracted a nearby crowd of students and parents, Harry and Hermione again slipped under the invisibility cloak and made their way out of the Great Hall. They walked passed the Weasley family, now trying to console each other; passed Neville who was regaling a crowd of students with the story of how Gryffindor's sword appeared to him right out the Sorting Hat, and how he had used it to chop off the head of Voldemort's snake; and finally past Peeves who was floating up and down the halls singing his song about Harry's victory.

When they finally reached a vacant hallway far enough from the party, Hermione suddenly said, "Harry, hold on for a second." Harry stopped, and pulled the invisibility cloak off of the both of them. He looked down at Hermione. Tears were welling up in her eyes again, but what Harry noticed the most was the look on her face. He had seen this particular look only once before. It was the same look she had given Ron when he returned to them in Forest of Dean. Harry knew what was coming next. He barely had enough time to brace himself before he felt the open palm of Hermione's hand violently impact the side of his face. "YOU ARE A SON OF A BITCH, HARRY POTTER!" Hermione yelled. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT WAS LIKE SEEING YOU LYING THERE! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING THROUGH! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! YOU COULD HAVE LET ME KNOW THAT YOU WERE ALRIGHT, BUT YOU DIDN'T! YOU…SHOULD…HAVE…TOLD…ME…HARRY!" She punctuated each word of her last sentence with particularly hard punches to Harry's abdomen. Before she had a chance to throw another, Harry grabbed hold of Hermione's arm and pulled her close, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She kept hitting his shoulder with the side of her fist, even as she buried her head against his chest. "You should have told me…" Hermione sobbed once more. Almost as suddenly as it had begun, her surge of anger had passed. She wrapped her arms around Harry and began crying very hard. Harry felt Hermione's knees begin to buckle. He kept his arms tightly wrapped around her, easing her to the hard stone floor at their feet.

"It's alright Hermione, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere," Harry said as he began gently stroking the side of her head. He wished that he would have said something a little better at that moment, something more reassuring, but it was the best he could come up with.

Harry listened to Hermione cry for more than a minute before her sobs began to subside. She finally spoke, "When I saw you lying there, I thought I'd lost everything. First Ron, then you. I just wanted to die, Harry."

_I just wanted to die, Harry. _The words reverberated through Harry's mind. It was as though she had slapped him again, only this hurt worse than all the others. Disturbing thoughts began to pass through his mind, thoughts that he did not wish to think might have been true. He squeezed her even tighter wondering how he could have put her through something like that. She was right, he should have told her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so, so, sorry…" Harry managed to finally choke the words out. Feeling so bad for what he had done to Hermione was setting something in motion now. Everything that he had forced back was now beginning to surge up inside of him. He closed his eyes, hoping to hold back the tears that were already forming. Harry tried to push everything back down because he did not want to let it out here, not in the corridor of all places, but there was so much more to this than he had ever imagined. What he was feeling now was not just because of the friends he had lost or because he had frightened Hermione so much. This was seventeen years worth of anguish that Harry had been keeping bottled up and was now trying to get out. He was mourning not only for Ron and Ginny now, he was mourning for his parents, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks. It was simply far too much for Harry to hold back for any longer.

**_There, I've gotten the really emotional stuff out of the way. I have to admit that I had a bit of writer's block with this chapter. Coming next, find out what I mean by the "Forbidden Chalice"._**


	6. The Day After

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

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**_Author's Notes: Sorry about the delays in getting this chapter out. I had a serious bout with writer's block on this one. That, coupled with work, having a social life, purchasing a new computer, and the Thanksgiving Holiday, have caused the delays. Also, I know that I said at the end of the last chapter that I would be revealing the Forbidden Chalice in this chapter, but I have decided to push that portion back one chapter. There were some things that I felt needed to be said first. So, my apologies. Fortunately, much of the next chapter was actually written several weeks ago. After a bit of tweaking, I should have that one out fairly quickly. _****_

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The Day After

_Thank you Bella, but no. I can attend to this myself. Crucio!_

Harry's eyes opened to the darkness of Ron's old bedroom. It had only been a dream, nothing for Harry to be concerned about. Dreaming about the Battle was to be expected, and presumably, it would be a part of his dreams both now and for the foreseeable future. As far as he knew, it was just his memories intruding on his sleep. It would be a couple of years before he would realize the deeper meaning behind this particular dream.

They had arrived at the Burrow in the early part of the afternoon. As soon as Harry and Hermione had walked into the door, Mrs. Weasley them off to bed. Neither of them argued. Both were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. For his part, Harry was glad to hear Mrs. Weasley order them off to bed. It was more the tone that she had used that made him glad. It was the tone of a concerned mother, and it meant that she was not angry with him, at least not yet. When he finally did manage to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and tell them that Ginny left the Room of Requirement because of him, that might all change.

Harry and Hermione had spent the better part of an hour in that corridor, holding on to each other and letting all of their feelings out. Harry felt some measure of relief. It was as though some great burden had been lifted, not gone completely, only lessened. But lessened was enough for now.

Bill Weasley found them a little while later, still sitting on the floor and huddled together. He had been sent out by Mrs. Weasley when she had begun to worry about them. Upon finding that they were both alright, Bill left them alone. He was smart enough to know what why they had left and why they were now sitting on the cold stone floor of the hallway, with their eyes puffy and tears still running down their cheeks. They needed time to themselves.

"Hermione, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to put you through all of that, but I had to make Voldemort believe that I was dead. It was the only way I could get back to the school. I know that I should've found some way to let you know."

"You're damn right you should have," Hermione said with a tone that showed she was still slightly angry with Harry. "Just promise me that you'll never do that to me again."

"I promise. No more pretending to be dead." It was a meager attempt at humor on Harry's part, one that provoked something that was sort of like a smile on Hermione's face.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" she finally asked.

"Yes." Harry stood up and held out his hand to Hermione. "Come on. We should do this some place with a bit more privacy." Hermione grasped his hand and they began walking. Harry began telling her what happened after they separated, only hesitating when he told her about using the Resurrection Stone. To his surprise, she bore that part of his tale quite well. A few tears well-up in her eyes upon when Harry told her how much Ron regretted not pursuing her sooner, but she Hermione held firm, refusing to break. The closest she did come to breaking happened when Harry told her that she had been his ultimate reason for choosing to live.

By the time he was finished recounting the events of the past few hours, the two of them were standing in front of the headmaster's office. They went inside and Harry spoke to Dumbledore's portrait, telling him of the loss of the Resurrection Stone, and that it would remain lost forever. Using the Elder Wand, he then repaired his Holly and Phoenix wand and promised to return the Elder Wand to its rightful owner.

Hours had passed since that time, and now, Harry lay in Ron's old bed listening to the sounds around him. The house was peacefully silent. Even the ghoul, who was once again living in the attic above Ron's bedroom, seemed to be keeping quiet out of respect. Apart from the wind, the only other noise Harry could hear was that of Hermione's breathing as she slept next to him. Even with the engorgement charm she had put on the bed to make it big enough for the both of them, she was still lying quite close to Harry. He could feel the warmth of her body, but strangely enough, Harry did not feel uncomfortable sharing the same bed with her. As a matter of fact, he felt an unusual sense of security with Hermione being so close to him.

After Mrs. Weasley had ordered them to bed, Hermione had snuck down to Ron's bedroom. She had not wanted to sleep on her own. With all she had been through, he could hardly blame her, and as badly as she had made him feel for pretending to be dead, Harry was not going to deny her this. Letting her sleep in the same bedroom was the very least that he could do to ease some of her pain. It was not as though that hadn't spent the better part of the last several months sleeping in the same tent with one another. Sleeping in the same bedroom would be no different.

There was one glaring problem, however, and that was there was only one bed in Ron's room. The camping bed that Harry normally slept on had been put away, and even though they were both adults, Harry doubted that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be terribly inclined to allow he and Hermione share the same bedroom. Therefore, asking to have the camping bed put in the bedroom was quite out of the question. Harry tried to be honorable and offered to sleep on the floor, but Hermione would not hear of it, telling him that he deserved to sleep in a bed just as much as she did. At the time, he was too tired to argue with her, a fact made quite evident when he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Even after what seemed like several hours of sleep, he still felt very tired. Harry closed his eyes, hoping to get some more rest, but now that he was awake, his mind had become active, pouring over different thoughts. Mostly what now concerned Harry was how his life had changed. It was not what he had expected or wanted, but now he had to deal with the reality of what his life had become. He began to wonder what the next step would be for him. Would he be allowed to return to Hogwarts and finish his seventh year? If so, would he even be able to bring himself to go with all of the memories, good and bad, that Hogwarts now held for him? These thoughts churned in Harry's mind for several minutes before he finally decided that trying to get any further sleep was a useless pursuit.

Wanting to do something else, he chose to get up. As he sat up in bed, Harry felt as though he had aged several decades since this morning. His muscles were stiff and sore, and a dull pain radiated out from the spot on his chest where he had been hit with Voldemort's killing curse. He looked down at his battered watch. It was nearly midnight. He had been asleep for more than ten hours. Thinking that his muscle stiffness was caused by nothing more than being asleep for so long, Harry pushed himself to get up and walk downstairs, hoping that some movement would loosen things up.

When he got downstairs, Harry was surprised to find Mr. Weasley sitting in his usual chair. Mr. Weasley was different now, he seemed older somehow. He had always been a light-hearted and uplifting sort of person, who always tried to ease everyone else's tension by making himself appear to be relaxed and calm. That look was now gone. In its place was a man who was weary and heartbroken.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Harry," Mr. Weasley replied, jumping slightly in his seat at Harry's sudden appearance. "You surprised me. I didn't expect anyone else to be up right now."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's alright. Come on, have a seat, if you like. I wouldn't mind some company." Harry slumped down on the weathered couch nearby Mr. Weasley. "Care for a drink? I suppose we have a little bit to celebrate about." It was only then that Harry noticed the bottle of fire whiskey pinned between Mr. Weasley's leg and the side of the chair and a half-full glass that he was holding in his hand.

"Sure, why not," Harry said more out of courtesy. He really did not think there were very many things to celebrate. Mr. Weasley summoned another glass from the kitchen and filled it up for Harry.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I suppose. I didn't think I would sleep for that long. Guess I was more tired than I thought."

"That's no surprise. You've had quite a past couple of days. Breaking into Gringott's, defeating You Know Who, and all that followed by a big party. You're a big hero now, Harry. Not that you weren't before, but now…"

"Yeah, well I don't feel like a hero."

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry for a moment, contemplating this sentiment. "No, I don't suppose you would. That's not the person you are, Harry. If I had to guess, right now I'd say you were wondering if it was all worth it."

That really was a good question, one that Harry had only one answer for. "Some of it is worth it, I guess."

"But not all of it, right?" Mr. Weasley asked, already seeming to know the answer.

"No, not all of it." Harry took a sip of the fire whiskey, which didn't really help him feel any better. "Ron and Ginny weren't supposed to die. I was the one who supposed to die last night. That's why I went off to face Voldemort. He had to kill me for it to be finished."

Mr. Weasley's expression changed to surprised concern. "What do you mean Harry?"

Harry thought for a moment. If anyone deserved to know the truth, it was Mr. Weasley. "Alright, the truth. I guess I owe you that much. Do you know what a horcrux is, Mr. Weasley?" For the next hour and a half, Harry told Mr. Weasley the entire story, pushing himself through everything. It was only when he began talking about Ravenclaw's Diadem did he finally pause for a few moments before forcing himself to blurt out that it was he who had let Ginny out of the Room of Requirement. Mr. Weasley remained silent throughout, listening intently, only asking the occasional question.

When Harry was done, he sat silently, unable to look Mr. Weasley in the face. "Well…that's quite a tale Harry. It's no wonder Dumbledore didn't want you tell anybody what you three were up to," Mr. Weasley said trying to take in everything he had just learned. He sat silently for a few moments before speaking again. "Harry, I know this must be hard for you. Ron was like your brother, and I know how you felt about Ginny. But you shouldn't go blaming yourself for what happened to them. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but I can't help think that it was."

"Of course you do. You wouldn't be human if you didn't feel that way, and I would venture to say that no matter how many times anyone tells you differently, you're still going to feel that way. All I can tell you is that neither Molly, I, nor anyone else in this family bares you any blame at all. So, let's have another drink and not worry anymore about blaming ourselves for things we did not do." With that, Mr. Weasley emptied his glass with one gulp and filled it with another generous portion of fire whiskey before holding it out. "Let's drink to those we love and the happy memories they have given us." Harry raised his glass, tapped it to the side of Mr. Weasley's, and took a large gulp of his own.


	7. The Forbidden Chalice

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

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**The Forbidden Chalice**

Harry and Mr. Weasley had spent the better part two hours polishing off that bottle of fire whiskey and talking. They spoke mostly about Ginny. It was a difficult subject for Harry at first, but the alcohol gradually made it one that was easier for him to discuss. Harry eventually told Mr. Weasley about the moment he became interested in Ginny, how he held himself back from pursuing her because of Ron, their first kiss, when they broke up, and how he had hoped to return to her when it was all over. Thankfully, Mr. Weasley did not seem interested in the more intimate details of Harry's relationship with his daughter. Harry would have had no idea how to answer any of those questions.

Mr. Weasley, however, was not the only one to learn something new about Ginny. Harry gained some new insight into the woman he loved. As it turned out, except for Ron, only Mr. Weasley had known about Harry's romance with Ginny. His job at the Ministry and his involvement with the Order of the Phoenix had put him in the unavoidable position to hear of some of the rumors that Harry and Ginny had become involved with one another. The last time he had seen Dumbledore, the headmaster confirmed the rumors, telling Arthur Weasley that the pairing was inevitable but would also be short-lived. "He said that a time would come when you would break it off with Ginny. You wouldn't want to do this, but you would know that being in a relationship with my daughter would put her at great risk. Protecting Ginny would be the most important thing to you." Harry looked over at Mr. Weasley. Tears were welling up in his eyes, but he continued on. "Harry, we…my family and I…we think of you as though you were one of our own, particularly Molly. Dumbledore knew this. He said that you would need our continued love and support for what you had left to do. If the family had believed that you had broken Ginny's heart, it would have made it more difficult for them to give you their support. So, Dumbledore asked me to tell everyone that nothing was going on between you two."

Harry found himself, once again, amazed at how Dumbledore always seemed to know what was going to happen before it did. He felt grateful that Dumbledore had the forethought to protect him one more time, and grateful to Mr. Weasley for telling his family the lie that kept that protection in place. "I really don't know what to say Mr. Weasley, but thank you. I know you didn't like lying to your family."

"Don't mention it Harry. Dumbledore said it was important, and that was all that mattered." Mr. Weasley wiped his eyes clean and then took a long sip from his glass. "You know, Dumbledore also told me that he once considered discouraging your relationship with Ginny; that it might distract you, but he thought better of it in the end. Your happiness was more important."

When the bottle was finished, they both agreed that the family was not ready to hear the truth about Harry and Ginny. The family needed more distance before they would be ready for the truth. Harry would tell them all in good time, when they were ready.

They also both agreed not to mention what had happened between Ron and Hermione. They decided that if and when that knowledge was to be shared, that is should be Hermione's choice to do so.

Harry started the following day with a blinding headache and an upset stomach. It was his first hangover, and after throwing several rather nasty and rude mental comments about the liquid he had imbibed the night before, he silently vowed that it would be his last. A dose of some kind of anti-hangover potion and a hot bath made all of his physical discomfort disappear, and as he sat in the bathroom, letting the warm water drain away the last of his headache, Harry could not help but feel as though more of that weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had not even minded the ribbing he had received from Fred and George who seemed to be taking some pleasure at his hangover. Harry noted that their jokes were relatively more mild than what should have been expected, but nonetheless, he was glad to know that they had not entirely lost their sense of humor.

Sadly, any good feelings that Harry developed from the previous night slowly drained away as the day wore on. An expectedly somber mood began to set on the Weasley household. Mrs. Weasley seemed intent on keeping herself busy in the kitchen for the entire day. She did nothing else but cook different pies and cakes that, unfortunately, no one really seemed to have much of an appetite to eat. The twins, despite their earlier jokes about Harry's hangover, relegated their humor to the back burner. Even Fleur's normally radiant beauty seemed diminished making her out to be nothing more than your above average attractive woman. Every now and then, someone would drop by to offer their condolences to the Weasley's on their loss. They were trying to be helpful and comforting, but all these visitors really did was to remind everyone else that Ron and Ginny were dead which, in turn, made everyone feel a little more depressed. About the only relatively decent thing that happened that day was that Harry received a note from Kingsley Shacklebolt, telling him that his aunt, uncle, and cousin had been safely returned to their house at Number Four, Privet Drive. Things were only going get worse over the next few days.

Harry had made a promise to himself to attend as many of the funerals of those who died defending Hogwarts as he possibly could, and it was a promise that he intended to keep. Those funerals started the following day. There were so many that it would be impossible for him to attend them all. Except for those Harry felt he had to attend, he chose which funerals he would go to by random lot. Many of these funerals were for people that Harry had not known very well. Yet, at almost all of them, their relatives told him that they felt honored that he chosen to pay his respects. He, in turn, told each of them that he was the one that it was the least that he could do for what they had done to help him defeat Voldemort.

While they were all important funerals, there were four that mattered more to Harry than the others. The funeral for Remus and Tonks was the first these funerals. They were buried on top of a small hill underneath a small tree. Dora was buried next to the grave of her father, Ted, and on the other side, Remus was laid to rest, all done so that the family could be together. This occasion also offered Harry his first chance to meet his godson, Teddy, something that on any other day would have been a happy occurrence. He promised Andromeda Tonks that he would remain a part of Teddy's life, and if they needed anything, he would do whatever he could to help.

That same afternoon, Harry attended the funeral for Severus Snape. Unlike many of the others, Snape's was attended by only Harry, Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and a few of the Hogwarts staff. When it seemed that no one was willing to speak on behalf of Snape, Harry stood up and told the whole truth about his old potions professor and what he had done to help defeat Lord Voldemort. It was only right that Snape's story about what he had done to help defeat Voldemort could get out into the open for everyone to hear and pass on.

The next day, Harry found himself sitting in a muggle church for Colin Creevy's funeral. The crowd in attendance sang hymns, prayed, and listened to a rather long sermon before adjourning to the church's graveyard for a few final words and prayers. After the funeral was over, Harry was hit with a hard truth. The nearly universal outpouring of gratitude directed at him in the wizarding world, it seemed, did not translate as well into the muggle world. Colin's father refused to speak to Harry when he tried to pay his respects. Dennis Creevy explained that his father did not understand and was angry, not just at Harry but at the entire magical world for what his sons had been forced to endure for the previous year. Harry could not help but feel that at some level, part of that anger was directed at him.

By far, however, the most important funeral to Harry was the final one he would attend for a very long time. It was the funeral that saw Ron and Ginny buried next to each other in the church graveyard at Ottery St. Catchpole.

Under any other circumstances, most people would have considered that day to be perfect. It was sunny and warm with a light breeze keeping the temperature comfortable. Harry, however, felt that the day was anything but perfect. As people began gather, Harry and Hermione took one last look at Ron and Ginny. Ginny looked beautiful, peaceful, as though she were sleeping. Harry kept hoping that this was all some bad dream, and Ginny would just open her eyes and get up. She was wearing the same dress that she had worn on his birthday the previous year, the last time they had kissed, a fact that made his heart sink.

Ron, like his sister, looked as though he was just asleep. The evidence of the wounds that ended his life were gone, and he lay wearing the dress robes Fred and George had purchased for him, along with a long scarf in the colors of the Chudley Cannons, his favorite quidditch team.

The funeral began a few minutes later, presided over by the same old wizard who had spoken at Dumbledore's funeral and conducted Bill and Fleur's wedding. When he finished speaking, Harry stood up and took his place at the podium. He had agreed to say a few words about Ron. Harry had some difficulty trying to figure out what to say about his best friend. In the end, decided to mention how good of a friend Ron had been, how he had been like a brother to Harry, and to recount some of the more humorous anecdotes he and Ron had experienced together. Harry struggled to get through it, coming close to breaking down on several occasions. It was hard to talk like this about Ron when only just a few days before he was alive and well.

As hard as it was to talk about Ron, Harry was thankful he did not have to say anything about Ginny. He there were so many things that he would never have been able to choose what to say about her. Harry also came to an uneasy realization about how little he had actually known about Ginny. He wished he had taken more time just talking to her.

Instead, the duty of saying a few words about Ginny fell to Fred and George, whose words about her were the perfect mix of charm, sentimentality, and humor. They made fun of how she used to act when Harry was anywhere nearby, and how she had grown into a mature and beautiful young woman whose bat-bogey hex even they were frightened of. For the entire length of their speech, Hermione kept a tight grip on Harry's hand, supporting him the only way a friend could.

The next day, Harry packed his bags and left the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley offered the expected protests, nearly begging him to stay, but Mr. Weasley stepped in, calmed her down, and explained to her that this was something Harry had to do for himself. Harry did not really want to leave, of course. This place was the closest thing to a home that he had ever had, but what he needed some time and space to think about things and deal with his own pain. The Burrow simply held too many memories for him to be able to do that. Except for the first day, when he was too exhausted to care, Harry could stand to spend only a few minutes at a time in Ron's bedroom, choosing to spend his nights on the sleeping on the couch, while Hermione, who was still not ready to sleep on her own, preferred to curl up in Mr. Weasley's chair. He had not even been able to go near Ginny's bedroom without remembering what had happened the only time he had ever been in there.

As much as he wanted some time away so that he could clear his head and put things into perspective, Harry did not want to, and would not, be alone. Hermione asked if she could come with him. Over the previous few days, she had been at his side for every funeral, supporting him, and offering him kind words when Collin Creevey's father refused to speak to him. Through all of this, Hermione had remained remarkably strong; refusing to shed a single tear since those first few hours after the Battle, but even a cursory glance at her face told Harry how badly she was hurting. Her strength had been a bolster to him, and he owed it to her to be there for her when she would need him. The only answer he could give her was "Yes."

Carrying a large picnic basket stuffed full with Mrs. Weasley cooking and the few possessions they had, Harry and Hermione left the Burrow early in the afternoon. They went to the only place where they could find some measure of privacy from the rest of the world: Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Once getting past the defenses Moody had put in place, they discovered that the house was in shambles, ransacked by the Death Eaters that had searched it so many months before. They spent the better part of the afternoon and evening cleaning and straightening it up. Harry found that this work actually kept his mind occupied with something else. While they worked, Hermione suggested maybe they should think about redecorating, making the house a little bit homier. Harry thought that it was good idea, partly because the house really could use a touch up, and partly because he wanted to stay busy with something. He had a feeling that Hermione also wanted something to do.

When all the cleaning was done, they had a nice quiet dinner of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking. As they ate, Hermione began suggesting different things they could do to each room. Harry listened to her ideas, but he was more interested in the change in her demeanor. With something else to occupy her mind, Hermione looked, at least, somewhat happier. The more she talked, the more ideas she had. Soon, she had out a parchment and quill, and was writing down all of their ideas, just like she was the old Hermione.

By the time they finished talking about the decorating plans, it was rather late. After clearing the table and cleaning the dishes, both of them decided that it was time to turn in. Initially, Hermione decided to take the same bedroom that she and Ginny had shared the summer before their fifth year of school. Normally, Harry would have taken Sirius's old bedroom. Tonight however, he chose to take the room that he and Ron had shared that same summer. This room had two beds, in case Hermione wasn't ready to be on her own.

After bidding Hermione a "good night", Harry closed the bedroom door and began changing into his bed clothes. He made his way to the bed he had used during their stay here three years ago, refusing to even acknowledge the bed Ron had slept in. As he pulled down the covers, a soft, but not unexpected knock, came at the door. He made his way back to the door and opened it. "I'm sorry Harry. You don't mind, do you?" she asked, tentatively.

"Of course not," Harry replied, with a gentle smile. "Come in." Hermione walked into the bedroom, and he closed the door. When he turned back around, she was staring on Ron's empty bed. "What is it?"

"You know the last time we were here, he was with us," Hermione answered with a distant tone. Hermione turned to him, tears streaking down her face. She reached out for Harry, wrapping her arms tightly around him, and resting the side of her head against his chest. Harry returned the embrace, wishing that there was something more that he could do for her, but considering that he felt the same way, it was hard to think of anything.

"God I miss him, Harry."

"I know. So do I."

"Harry, tell me it's going to get better," Hermione said after several seconds.

Harry stroked her hair gently, and softly said, "One day, it will. Everything will get better." Harry knew that it would, of course, although as badly as he now felt, he could not foresee when or how it would be.

Hermione lifted her head and looked back up at him. "Do you promise?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him.

Harry looked down into her tear-filled brown eyes. "I promise," he said before leaning forward and kissing her forehead gently. He brought his gaze back to her eyes. They stared at each other for several seconds. Then, Harry leaned his head forward again, but this time, he put lips to hers. He didn't know what was making him do this or why, but Harry could not stop himself. For whatever inexplicable reason, he had to kiss Hermione, and what was more, Hermione was kissing him back.

Things happened quickly, far too quickly for Harry to slow down and think about what he was doing. Whatever control he might have had over himself was now gone, and in its place was some kind of primal urge. Yet, Hermione, normally one of the most rational people Harry knew, did not seem to be in control of her own self either. Before he knew it, their clothes strewn about the bedroom, and they were lying on the bed, their bodies joined together, flesh pressed firmly against flesh, and lost in the heat of the moment. Harry was not concerned by the fact that of all the women in the world, Hermione Granger was not someone he was supposed to be doing this with. In fact, Harry did not care about anything else other than this moment. To him there was no past or future, only the present, and the present felt wonderful.

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**_So, what did you think? Like it? Hate it? Indifferent? Let me know. _**


	8. Notes and Memoirs

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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**Notes and Memoirs**

Harry held the red notebook in his hands, peering at piece of foled up parchment he had glued to the blank page at this very spot. It was a note Hermione had written to him all those years before. Every time he read her words, Harry marveled at how stupid he had been by sleeping with her on that night. Hermione should have been off limits to him, especially so soon after they had buried Ron. Yet he had done it. Rather, they had done it. Hermione freely admitted that she was just as much at fault for what they had done that night as he had been. He took solace in the fact that she felt just as stupid about it as he did.

Harry's thoughts turned to the present, wondering how his life would have turned out if they had not slept together that night. Would his life be the same now? Would Hermione still be the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, or would they just be friends as they had always been? The way Dumbledore had explained it, Harry's relationship Hermione was meant to be what it had become. He had fallen in love with her for the same reasons that he had fallen in love with Ginny, and considering that they already had a strong bond of friendship it was quite possible that this love went far deeper. Things would have been different had either Ron or Ginny or both not been killed at the Battle of Hogwarts, of course. Sadly, that was not how things had turned out, and the more Harry thought about it, he could not deny that Dumbledore's logical conclusion seemed to fit perfectly.

Harry read the contents of the parchment once more before setting the notebook on the desk.

_Dear Harry,_

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. There are things that I need to think about for a little while, and I'm not sure if I will be able to do that if I stay with you. Please understand, Harry, that I don't blame you for what happened between us last night. I think we both know that it was a mistake, but it was a mistake that we both made. I must ask you to please not try to find me right now. I just need some time. I need to find my parents and figure things out. I promise we will talk about this soon. Please forgive me Harry. I hope you can understand. _

_Love,_

_Hermione _

Harry had woken up the morning after sleeping with Hermione to find her gone and that note left on her pillow. He spent much of that day reading and re-reading the note over and over again. He did not, however, need it to make him regret sleeping with her. It was a mistake, just as her note said. He had known that almost from the moment he had woken up and remembered what they had done the night before.

As he read the note over and over again, the same series of thoughts and emotions ran through his head over and over again. At first, he could not help but feel angry at himself for being such a prized idiot. A small part of him was also angry at Hermione for running away and leaving this hanging between them, although his anger with her quickly subsided. He could not really blame her for leaving, because in the end, she was right. They both needed time away from each other to think about and try to understand what had happened.

Unfortunately, the answer to the question of what had possessed him to even kiss Hermione in the first place and why had he allowed things to go so far, was eluding him. It was true that they had grown increasingly closer to one another over the past few days, but this was nothing more than two friends supporting each other in a time of mutual need. He had never thought of Hermione in that way before. She had always been his friend and nothing more. As far as he knew, Hermione never seemed romantically interested in him either. She had always been more interested in Ron.

So, why had they done it? What reasons could there possibly have been for them to have do all of those oh so wonderful things last night. No matter how hard he tried not to let it happen, Harry's thoughts would travel across everything he and Hermione had done the previous night. It had all been so amazing and felt so wonderful. If he had not felt any desires for Hermione before, Harry hated to admit that he now seemed to be having those feelings now. It was almost impossible to get the thought of Hermione's naked body out of his head, and like any normal guy his age Harry wanted to do all of those things again, particularly that one little thing Hermione had done. _Where had she learned how to do that? _he wondered to himself. It wasn't something one would normally have expected from Hermione Granger. Not that he was really complaining.

The more Harry thought about each and every moment of pleasure, the more consuming those thoughts became, almost to the point where he could think of nothing else…almost. Inevitably, Harry's lustful thoughts would turn to Ginny. All of those things he had done with Hermione were things that he should have been doing with Ginny, and Hermione should have been doing them with Ron. Then, the guilt would set in.

Harry felt as though he had cheated on Ginny. Not only that, he had betrayed Ron too. What made Harry feel even more terrible was that he knew Hermione had to be feeling the same way he was. What was worse, sleeping with her had put their entire friendship in jeopardy. Could things between them be salvaged? Could they remain friends after this? Harry had serious doubts about any of this, and even if they could get past what had happened, from here on out, his relationship with Hermione would never be the same. No matter what her note said, he felt that all of this was his fault.

At this point, Harry would invariably read Hermione's note again, hoping to glean some kind of idea what she was thinking or feeling, and most of all, looking for some glimmer of hope that things between them could some how be okay. Each time he read the note, he could find nothing that could give him this hope. Then, the cycle of thoughts would begin again.

What Harry really wanted was someone he could talk to, but there really was no one. Dumbledore or Sirius would have been good choices. They were the closest thing to father figures that Harry had ever known. The idea of talking to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon was laughable at best. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were also out of the question. He could not bring this sort of thing to them. The shame would be too much for Harry to bear. He thought of going to Hagrid with this. He would listen with a nonjudgmental ear, but Harry had serious doubts as to whether Hagrid could offer him any kind of meaningful advice. "Jus' give it time Harry," Hagrid would say, "an' you n' Hermione'll be alrigh'." This sort of thing was not what Harry was looking for. He wanted someone who would listen like Hagrid but who could also offer him some kind of real guidance. The funny thing was, if Harry had slept with any other girl, his first choice for someone to talk to would have been Hermione. She would have listened to him and then offered some very logical and rational advice, the kind that he needed to hear.

Night had fallen before he finally decided that this endless circle of internal debate was getting him no where. It only served to make Harry feel worse about what he had done. So, he gave up trying to figure everything out and went to bed, praying that he would feel better in the morning.

After an almost sleepless night, in which he was repeatedly woken up by the same dream, Harry started out the next day looking for something occupy his time and keep his mind from delving into the events of two nights before. The only thing he could come up with was Hermione's suggestion to redecorate the house. Altogether, it wasn't that bad of an idea really. The house desperately needed it. Plus, it was something that would presumably take several days, even weeks to finish, giving Harry the time he desperately wanted.

He found Hermione's list of decorating ideas left on the kitchen table where she had left it the night before. Almost as soon as he started reading it, Harry quickly began to realize that he was in over his head. His head began swirling as he tried to wade through the list. There must have been a hundred different ideas that Hermione had scribbled down. In his life, he had faced a dragon, killed a basilisk, fought off a horde of dementors, and defeated Lord Voldemort, but figuring out how he wanted to decorate his house was absolutely beyond Harry.

Finally, he decided that painting the walls of the house would do for now. He chose beige for the walls and white for the trim. He remembered seeing those colors on the covers of Aunt Petunia's old decorating magazines. They seemed warm and inviting, as well as a simple and easy choice which was ended up being not quite as simple a choice as he would have hoped. When he went to a nearby muggle paint store, he found out that there were at least two dozen different colors that were called beige, some of which looked almost indistinguishable from another, while others bore absolutely no resemblance to the color beige at all, and as for white, Harry could not even begin to fathom exactly how many different colors of white there were. It didn't stop at shades of beige and white either. There was also a whole range of different kinds of paints that he could use. Then, there was all the equipment: brushes, rollers, drop cloths, masking tape, and even a "how to guide" on painting. When he finally got everything back to Number Twelve (quite a feat in itself), Harry set himself to work.

He started painting in the entry way to the house. It was small and should have offered him a good place to start. Harry followed all of the instructions in his new little book on painting, put masking tape over everything, laid down the drop cloths, and after spending more than an hour just preparing the room to paint, he was ready to start.

What happened next was an utter disaster. Apart from the fact that the walls looked terrible, Harry had stepped in the paint tray twice coating the soles of his trainers in beige, and leaving numerous foot prints all over the drop cloth. Huge globs of paint also dotted the drop cloth. At one point, he slipped in one of these globs, landing Harry flat on his back and the open can of paint that he was holding spilled all over himself. When all was said and done, he reckoned that there was more paint on the floor and on his body than was on the walls.

As bad as it was, Harry pushed on, hoping that he would get better. His second attempt at painting the entry way did, in fact, go a little more smoothly. He didn't drop nearly as much paint, and most importantly, cover himself with an entire can of paint. With each successive room, Harry's painting technique continued to approve. After a week of steady work, he was getting good enough that he was finishing a room in one setting without having to do any touch ups. He even began to feel confident enough to try a few new things. Using Hermione's list, he went back to a few of the rooms he had already painted and did the job again, this time trying some of her suggestions for colors and finishes. His little "how-to" book also told him how to do the some of the different painting techniques she had put on her list.

He repainted the drawing room first, going with Hermione's choice of Prussian Blue and leaving the trim white. He was amazed at what a difference a little color made. All of his other beige painted rooms were quite bland by comparison, and there was no question that everything else would have to be repainted. Harry was not really bothered by this. It just meant that he had more to occupy his time and his mind.

He left the entry way as it was. Beige and white seemed like the proper choice for that area of the house, but Harry re-did everything else. For the most part, he went along with the suggestions Hermione had made on her little list. The kitchen was painted in a light yellow, a plumb color for the dining room, and a deep forest green covered the walls of the sitting room. Harry drew the line at a couple of places. He would not paint his downstairs bathroom in pink. Apart from this, he really did have to admit that Hermione had a pretty good eye for this sort of thing.

Generally speaking, the paint job began to go pretty well. A few rough spots popped up here and there. Harry could not quite get the hang of something called a faux finish, and then there was the problem of disposing of those items stuck to the walls by permanent sticking charms. Namely, the portrait of Sirius's mother, the Black family tree, and the severed house elf heads. Mrs. Black's portrait was becoming a particular problem. She had taken to shrieking out her anti-mudblood curses every couple of hours instead of waiting for loud noises to set her off. It was starting to annoy Harry. It got to the point where he was ready to remove the walls altogether, just to get rid of them. Fortunately, it never had to come to that. Kreacher turned out to be the answer to this problem. It seemed that no one had bothered to even consider that a house elf's magic might be strong enough to overcome a permanent sticking charm. Either that or no one thought Kreacher would ever do it.

Harry had recalled his house elf a few days after Hermione's departure, mostly because his supply of Mrs. Weasley's meat pies was running low. About the only thing he was really capable of cooking was pot noodles, and the thought of living off of those was not entirely pleasant. Plus, he also was beginning to feel a little lonely. He wanted some company, even if it was only Kreacher.

Kreacher had been rather indifferent to his master's desire to paint the Black family's ancestral home, but when it came to getting rid of his former mistress's portrait, the house else was less than enthusiastic. Harry solved this little problem by offering to let Kreacher take the attic for his own room and to keep the portrait, family tree, and any other remaining Black family artifacts. After that, Kreacher's zest for Harry's decorating project grew by leaps and bounds. He turned out to be quite a help. Apart from cooking some excellent meals, he helped Harry set up each room for painting and clean up when it was done.

Harry worked steadily for two weeks, painting late into each and every night until he was so exhausted that sleep came easily. So easily, in fact, that he fell asleep before his mind had any chance to drift onto things he wasn't ready to think about. For the most part, the painting did what he had hoped it would do. It kept his mind occupied with other things. Of course, there were fleeting moments when his thoughts turned to Hermione, and Ron, and Ginny. He hoped that Hermione was okay, that somehow Ron and Ginny would forgive him for what he had done, and would then push these thoughts back out of his mind and returned his concentration to painting. By the end of the second week, however, he found his mind wandering more and more over to those three most important people.

It was around this time that Harry began to feel something he had never felt before. He had the strange urge to write about his life. It was difficult for Harry to understand why he suddenly had this compulsion. He generally associated writing with school work and was, therefore, supposed to be unpleasant, and yet, he felt as though there was something inside of him that he had to get out. Harry put the idea in the back of his head for a few days, hoping that it would go away. Instead, the idea of writing grew until finally, he gave in and set down his paint brush and put quill to parchment.

There was no real organization to his writing at first. With no idea where to start, Harry chose to begin with his parents' deaths. From there his memoir began to take a more structured form, arranged into chapters based on different subjects that were a part of his life. There was a chapter on his life with the Dursley's, a chapter about when he learned that he was actually a famous wizard, but most importantly, separate chapters on those people who had meant the most to him in his life, namely Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. He even included a chapter on Lord Voldemort. Like it or not, Voldemort had been a very significant part of his life, one that Harry could not ignore.

Harry found parts of his memoir rather easy to write, while others, particularly those about Ron and Ginny, were far more difficult. There were so many things that he wanted to say about them and what they had both meant to him that Harry had difficulty trying to figure out what really needed to be said about them and how much both of them had meant to him. The chapter he wrote about Hermione also proved to be rather difficult. Without really knowing what was going to happen between them, it was hard to figure out exactly how to end the chapter, so he decided not to. It did not seem right to close the chapter on Hermione Granger when the future of their relationship remained uncertain.

One unanticipated side effect of writing his life story was that putting his thoughts and feelings about his life, friends, and loved ones onto paper somehow made Harry begin to feel better. Putting down his life story onto paper made him take a more objective look at his life, as though he were some invisible observer to the events that had brought him to this moment in time. It made Harry feel as though someone else was finally getting to know the whole truth, in its entirety. There was nothing he held back, no hiding of the things that he did not want other people to know. Even though this memoir was not for anyone else's eyes, it was liberating, to finally let it all out. It gave him hope that everything was somehow going to be better.

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**Okay. I'm finally done with this chapter. Sorry it's been so long in coming, but with Christmas, New Year's, and everything in between, it's been quite a task on this one. I had a lot of problems with this one. I must have written at least ten times before I got something that was palatable, and to be frank, I'm still not fully satisfied with it. But I think it's time to move on to the next chapter. So, I'm leaving it as is. I suppose every writer has a few parts of their stories that they don't like. Until next time.**


	9. Plan No 42

**_I do not own Harry Potter.

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**Plan No. 42**

Harry had been working on his memoirs for more than a week, both night and day, magically adding more and more blank pages to the red notebook as needed. He only stopped to eat because of Kreacher's constant pestering would quickly become annoying if he did not. It was the owl that finally brought his writing to a halt. Harry had been receiving owls on an almost daily basis; mostly from people he had never met or even heard of, sending him letters of thanks and offering their condolences on losing his best friend. School aged children sent him drawings, mostly of him, often scrawled with the words, "Thank you Harry Potter." After three weeks, the flow of owls had slowed to a trickle, one or two per day, sometimes none at all.

At first glance, the particular owl that arrived on that Friday afternoon, appeared to be a typical barn owl, no different that many of the owls that had been delivering those messages thanks. It was the letter that the owl carried that made it different. The envelope was sealed with wax, imprinted with the letter "M", the symbol for the Ministry of Magic.

Harry cautiously opened the letter, wondering what it might be about. To his surprise, it was from Mr. Weasley. The letter was short and to the point, but left Harry quite curious.

_Harry,_

_I need to discuss a matter of great importance that concerns both you and the f__uture of the Ministry. If it would be convenient, I would like to meet with you in my office, tomorrow afternoon at 1 p.m. If you agree, I will have a Ministry car waiting for you tomorrow at 12:30. Please send your reply with the owl._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Weasley_

_Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic _

Harry immediately noticed Mr. Weasley's new title within the Ministry. Senior Undersecretary to the Minister had to mean that Mr. Weasley was very close to Kingsley Shacklebolt, a big step up from the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Somehow it seemed appropriate, as well as smart. As the temporary Minister for Magic, Kingsley would want people that knew how the Ministry was run and with whom he could trust. Mr. Weasley fit the bill on both accounts.

Mr. Weasley's new position in the Ministry also meant that that the meeting he wanted to have might possibly be coming from the Minister himself. Harry could not tell what Mr. Weasley wanted to speak about with him. The letter had been distinctly un-specific. The reason for this, Harry was not sure, but it was obviously something important enough to warrant conferring at the Ministry rather than the Burrow or some other more casual place. While this made him curious, it also made Harry guarded. He was also not overly pleased about being associated with the future of the Ministry. The last time anyone tried to that, it had been Rufus Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour had wanted Harry to help him lie to the rest of the wizarding world by reassuring them that the Ministry had the Voldemort situation well in hand when nothing could have been further from the truth.

But this was not Scrimgeour, or even the old Ministry, for that matter. This was Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt, two people with whom Harry had a great deal of trust and respect for. He seriously doubted that their intentions were anything but honorable. So, Harry dashed off a reply, agreeing to the meeting, and sent it with the owl before returning to his writing. The next day, at 12:30 on the dot, Harry looked out the front window to see a Ministry sedan, just like the ones he had ridden in before, parked just across the street from the house. The driver was standing at the front of the car, his head shifting back and forth between numbers eleven and thirteen, trying in vain to see the house in between. He was a middle aged man, perhaps in his late 40's. Beneath his driver's cap, Harry could see a hint of graying hair, and his mustache looked to be a mixture of reddish blonde and white hair. He was dressed in a neat, clean, and well-pressed uniform, exactly the same as those worn by the Ministry drivers Harry had met in the past.

Harry informed Kreacher that he was going out and would be back by dinner time. He opened the door and stood on the top step, still keeping himself within the protection of the Fidelius Charm. After taking one last look up and down the street to make sure that no muggles could see anything, Harry turned and began to feel that familiar squeezing pressure against his body. An instant later, he was standing directly behind the driver. Harry's apparating skills had progressed to the point that when he reappeared, the normally loud cracking sound was gone, as evidenced by the fact that the driver seemed unaware of Harry's presence less than five feet away. Harry reached out, tapped the driver on the shoulder, and asked in a calm voice, "Did Arthur Weasley send you?"

The driver jumped, startled by the unexpected tap on his shoulder. "Blimey, you gave me a fright," the driver said as turned. He stopped as soon as he saw Harry, and for a moment, the driver did nothing. He just stared, at first just in a general way, and then his eyes traveled up to the scar on Harry's forehead, just like everyone else did when they first met him. "My Lord! Why you're…you're Harry Potter! Merlin's Beard, when Mr. Weasley said I'd be picking up someone important, I never thought it would be someone as important as you sir!" The driver quickly grasped Harry's hand and began shaking it furiously. "Sir, let me just say what an honor it is to be shaking your hand. Good Lord! Harry Potter! This is exciting, I must say. Oh, but where are my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Huxley, sir. I'm the Ministry's senior chauffeur. It'll be my pleasure to drive you to your meeting with Mr. Weasley this afternoon, speaking of which, we'd best be going. Mr. Weasley's instructions were to take you straight to the Ministry without delay. So, if you'll follow me sir." Huxley scampered over to the rear of the car, and opened the back door. Harry followed and climbed in the car, sliding across the seat to the opposite side of the car. Moments later, Huxley was in his place in the driver's seat. He turned back to Harry, and with a large smile said, "Let me say again sir, what an honor this is, having you in _my_ car! If only I could tell the missus about this! It would make her day to hear that I got to meet you, Mr. Potter. She's a big fan of yours. I can't tell 'er of course. Mr. Weasley's instructions were that I wasn't supposed tell anyone who I was driving today, and it's more than my job's worth to go against my orders. Well, buckle up sir, and I'll have you at the Ministry before you know it."

From the moment the car pulled away from the curb, Harry realized that Huxley was a man who liked to talk…a lot. For the entire ride to the Ministry, he didn't stop speaking for one solitary second. He talked about his family, his work, and some of the goings on at the Ministry. Normally, Harry would have become annoyed with the constant chattering after only a few minutes, but after more than three weeks of speaking to no one but Kreacher, he found it rather relaxing to hear someone else's voice.

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the Ministry's parking garage. It looked no different than any other underground car park, only that it was considerably smaller than what one would normally have expected for such a large office complex. Then again, most witches and wizards did not travel by automobile either. Harry climbed out of the car and followed Huxley through a door and into a small corridor. They continued on to a lift. It was different than the regular Ministry lifts that Harry had been in before. This one was noticeably larger, not nearly as clean, and the floors and walls of the lift were covered in scratches and deep gouge marks. "Sorry about the lift, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley said to bring you straight to him by way of the service lifts. These are only used to bring up freight and the like. No one uses them for travelling between floors, and Mr. Weasley wanted us to avoid bumping into anyone, if possible."

The lift moved slower than the other Ministry elevators. It was almost a minute before it stopped and Huxley was able to open the security gate. On the other side of the gate, Mr. Weasley was waiting for them. "Harry, my boy, good to see you," Mr. Weasley said cheerfully as he held out his hand to Harry. Harry took it firmly and could not help but notice how tired Mr. Weasley looked. "Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice and on a Saturday."

"It's no problem."

"Thank you, Huxley. That will be all for now. If you could wait here, I'm sure we won't be too long." Huxley nodded before conjuring up a chair to sit in while he waited. "Well Harry, follow me, if you please." Mr. Weasley led Harry out of the service corridor and into the more elegantly decorated hallway that contained the offices of the senior officials in the Ministry. They were walking at a steady, but not too brisk of a pace. "Like I said before, Harry, I'm sorry to call you in on a Saturday, but I wanted to keep your visit rather hush-hush, so to speak. There aren't nearly as many people here on the weekends. I would have done this tomorrow when almost no one would be here, but Molly will have my head if I were to come in to the office on another Sunday. That reminds me. She wanted me to let you know that the family is getting together for dinner tomorrow afternoon. Molly said that you've been on your own for long enough, and she expects you to be there, even if she has to drag you to the Burrow by your ears. Personally, I wouldn't put it past her either. So if you value your ears, I'd show up tomorrow."

"Yeah I am kind of partial to them," Harry said grinning slightly.

"Excellent. Be there around one or so and bring your appetite."

"Mr. Weasley, I noticed on your letter that you've been promoted. Congratulations."

"Thank you Harry. Yes, indeed. Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. Big step up if I do say so myself. I would have been happy returning to my old job in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, but when the Minister asked me to help, I just had to say yes, especially considering what he really wants to do with the Ministry."

"And what would that be Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley stopped for a second and turned to Harry, and in a very low voice he said, "Best not to mention that in the hallway. Too many ears around here at the moment, if you catch my meaning." Harry nodded, fully understanding that there were certain things Mr. Weasley did not want others to know just yet. They started walking again. "For the most part, we've been working hard at getting the Ministry back up and running," Mr. Weasley said in a louder voice, almost as though he were trying to convince any unseen listeners that he was doing nothing but that.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's been quite a job."

"Indeed. The Death Eaters left this place in a sorry state. Lots of clean up to do, departments to re-organize, and of course, getting rid of all those people who supported You-Know-Who's regime. By the way, you might be interested to know that starting sometime next week Dolores Umbridge is due to stand trial for her crimes against Muggleborns. She's facing a life sentence in Azkaban for what she did. She's trying to argue that she was only doing as she was ordered, but that will never hold up and she knows it." A surge of glee filled Harry at hearing this. The old cow deserved to spend the rest of her life locked up.

They turned a corner that lead to a short row of three offices. "Here we are," Mr. Weasley said as he pointed to the first door on the right. A brass name plate that read Mr. Weasley's name and new title was right next to the very sturdy oak doors. He opened the door and gestured for Harry to go inside. The office contained an old oak desk and a set of equally old wooden filing cabinets lined against the opposing wall. This office was nothing like the one Harry had seen when Mr. Weasley was the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. It was neat, clean, and well-organized office, not the kind of office Harry would have expected Arthur Weasley to occupy.

"Follow me Harry," Mr. Weasley said as he strode to an open door at the opposite side of the room. Realizing that this was only the outer portion of the office, Harry followed Mr. Weasley through the other door and into a much more spacious room that definitely bore the signs that it belonged to Mr. Weasley. At the center of the far side of the room sat a desk, cluttered with several large stacks of papers. To Harry's immediate left sat a long conference table with several chairs sitting on either of its sides. On top of the table were a half dozen open file boxes filled with different files and papers. To his right, in front of a large white marble fireplace, were two comfortable looking leather bound chairs. It reminded Harry of the kind of places he had seen Muggle political leaders sitting in as they posed for photographs for the newspapers and television news programs.

"Wow Mr. Weasley. Nice office."

"Thank you Harry. It's a little big for my tastes, but there's not much I can do about that. It comes with the job. I do miss all of my Muggle trinkets though." It was only then that Harry noticed that all of the posters of automobile engines, the spark plugs, and every other muggle item that Mr. Weasley had kept in his old office, were not present in this one. "With all the meetings I have now-a-days, it seemed more appropriate to put them into storage for now. Got to give the right impression and all." Harry could tell that Mr. Weasley was being quite honest with him in this regard. He was now in a job where he could not fully be himself, something that obviously bothered Mr. Weasley. "Please Harry, have a seat," Mr. Weasley said as he gestured towards the two leather chairs. Harry sat down in one of them and then watched as Mr. Weasley closed the door, locked it, and then waved his wand over the door while muttering a spell before turning back to Harry. "There, now we can talk freely," Mr. Weasley said sly grin. "Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, butterbeer, or maybe a firewhiskey?"

From the smile on Mr. Weasley's face, Harry could tell that the firewhiskey was meant as a joke. "A butterbeer will be fine," Harry said, chuckling slightly.

With another wave of his wand, Mr. Weasley conjured up two bottles of butterbeer and handed one to Harry. "Staying away from the firewhiskey, I see."

"Yeah, for right now. I'm not too fond of its after effects."

Mr. Weasley sat in the chair just across from Harry. "So, Harry how have you been? Everything alright?" Mr. Weasley asked in a much more serious and concerned tone.

"I'm…er…I'm alright. As good as can be expected I suppose. I've been keeping myself busy. I'm painting the house, sprucing it up a bit. It's a lot better now…even managed to get rid of Mrs. Black's portrait. Well, Kreacher managed to get down. I let him keep it in the attic."

"Painting? Have you been using any muggle painting equipment by chance?"

"Yeah, it was the easiest to get a hold of."

"I wouldn't mind giving those a try. Wizards have the same equipment, only they've been charmed to do all the painting for you. Course, Molly won't ever let me use the muggle stuff, says they make too much of a mess."

"And how is Mrs. Weasley?"

"Ahh...she's…she's coping. It's been hardest on her. The boys and I, we all have jobs and places that we can go to, to get away from things. Molly doesn't have that luxury. She's been cleaning the house over and over again, top to bottom and doing a lot of cooking. I suppose she's just trying to keep busy, just like we all are. Thankfully, Fleur's been kind enough to stay with her and keep her company most days, and at least one of the twins spends the night when I have to work late, which is more often than not these days. I wish I could spend more time with her, but with the way things are right now…Molly understands." Just by looking at the expression Mr. Weasley's face, Harry could tell how badly he felt for not being able to be with his wife and help her through these hard times. "It hasn't been easy for any of us, but I think we'll pull through in the end."

They both sat silently for a few uncomfortable seconds, both seeming to think about the same thing, before Mr. Weasley spoke again. "Well, I suppose you are wondering why I've asked you to come here today Harry. I'm sorry that I couldn't be more specific in my note, but as I intimated earlier, there are a lot of people trying to figure out what the Minister is planning to do, what changes he wants to make. That's why I've asked you to meet with me, Harry. We need your help. There's a lot to do to get the Ministry back in working order, and the Minister…Kingsley…thought you might be more receptive to what he wants to ask of you if you were to hear it from me."

"Alright," Harry said, now on the alert. Something big was coming, something Mr. Weasley and Kingsley both thought he would not like to hear.

"Frankly, Harry, there is a lot more to do at the Ministry than just putting it back in working order. As you well know, our government has a lot of problems. The corruption and, of course, the latent blood-purity nonsense that is behind it all, are all deeply embedded within the Ministry. These are the reasons why You-Know-Who was able to take over so easily. People like Dolores Umbridge were perfectly willing to accept the regime change, no questions asked, because it gave them freedom to let their beliefs out and more importantly, it gave them power. Now, understand Harry, most witches and wizards are like you and I. They don't care one bit about blood purity or gaining power. They just want to go about their lives and be happy. What we are talking about is a very small portion of the population. Unfortunately, it seems like they all end up in government."

"And Kingsley wants to get rid of them all, right?"

"Precisely. He wants to clean house, Harry. We've already gotten rid of most of the offenders. Some were fired, quite a few resigned and left of their own accord, and some are being brought up on criminal charges. A couple of the worst offenders, ones who were facing the disgrace public trials and life sentences in prison, chose to commit suicide instead. Sad really. Anyhow, over the coming months, we will be weeding out more of those pure-blood fanatics. As we dismiss more and more Ministry officials and employees, they need to be replaced, and that's where you come in, Harry. The Minister would like for you to join the Auror Department. Not right away, but in a month or so. He reckons that you've earned a bit of a rest."

"But what about the NEWT requirements? I never took the exams. Don't I need those to become an Auror? "

"Under normal circumstances, yes, you would need your NEWT's, but with the state the Auror Department is in right now, we need to get some new young talent in there as quickly as possible. The past year has taken its toll on the aurors. We lost a lot of good people at the hands of the Death Eaters, and most of those that made it through only did so by siding with the You-Know-Who's regime. That leaves us with a very small handful of aurors that we really can trust. We thought about bringing up the advanced auror recruits and putting them straight into service, but the problem there is that for the past year their training has been heavily influenced by the dark arts and more of this blood purity nonsense. So, we've been forced to scrap every single one of our trainees."

"But if you need to rebuild the Auror Department quickly, why don't you need me to start as soon as possible?" Harry asked.

"Harry, the Minister knows full well what you've been through. He wants you to take some time. Don't misunderstand me Harry, we do need to rebuild the department quickly, but for right now, the Auror Department is covered. We've managed to recall several aurors out of retirement, to fill in the gaps for the time being, and fortunately, with You-Know-Who out of the way, there aren't any dark wizards making any real trouble at the moment. The only real thing we have to contend with is finding those Death Eaters who have, so far, managed to avoid capture. Right now, they all seem to be laying low and not making any trouble. The aurors we've called out of retirement are experienced and well-trained. They can lead the charge in finding the Death Eaters."

"What about training? Professor McGonagall said there is supposed to be three years of training to qualify as an auror?"

"Normally, that would be true, but this is a special situation, Harry. We are working on a new training program that will be put into place until we can get the Auror Department back up and fully running. I can't say for certain what all will be involved. As I said, we, or rather the aurors, are still working on that. All I can really say is that the training schedule will be significantly condensed, and much of the instruction will be on-the-job, so to speak. Oh, and Filius Flitwick has agreed to take a one year sabbatical from Hogwarts in order teach dueling to the new recruits."

"Professor Flitwick?"

"Yes. He was a dueling champion you know...won the All-Britain Magical Dueling Cup three years running. Really knows his stuff. What he did against the Death Eaters should speak for that."

Harry looked for a moment with excitement building up in his body. Without having completed school or his NEWT's, he had given up any thoughts of becoming an auror. Now, he realized that the dream was not dead at all. His immediate thought was to scream "Yes" as soon as possible, but there was something that was bothering him about this offer, something that Mr. Weasley was not quite certain he would like. "Before I agree to this I need to know something."

"Of course. I won't hold anything back."

"What's the catch?"

"Well, Harry, all we really want to do is to make a rather large public announcement that you've agreed to join the Auror Department. Nothing else."

"Alright," Harry said, still convinced that there was more to this. "So, why do you think I might have a problem with that?"

"Well, Harry, it's more the reason why we want to make a rather large public announcement that we think you might be concerned. Part of the reason is that we are hoping that your joining the Auror Department you will help with our auror recruiting efforts. If people see that you are willing to become an auror, we hope that some of them will be willing to sign up too."

"I don't see anything wrong with that."

"Yes, but as I said, that's only part of it Harry."

"So, what's the other part?"

"Before I tell you, I want you to know, that Kingsley's offer for you to join the Auror Department is not contingent upon you agreeing to allow us to do make any sort of announcement at all. It will stand no matter what you say. The Minister is certain, and I have to agree, that you will make an excellent auror. You are exactly the kind person we need to help rebuild the Department. So, if you wish for us to keep everything low-key, we will agree to that."

"Okay, I understand. Now, what's the other part?"

"Harry, the Minister and I both know how you feel about someone using you for their own political gain. Believe me, we fully remember what Rufus Scrimgeour tried to do with you, but, frankly, we need that same kind of help. You see, in the long run, simply cleaning house and putting the Ministry back to the way it was before won't prevent the corruption from occurring again. It will be a short-term solution at best. In a few years time, those corruptive elements will be present again. There have to be changes made in the way the Ministry is run and how it is been governed. We're not naïve enough to believe we can stop it altogether. Corruption and politics go hand in hand, just as they always have, but what we can do is to limit it, contain it, and hopefully make it so that no other dark wizard can gain control again. Kingsley understands this better than anyone. That's one of the reasons he asked me to take my new position, to help him come up with new ideas to correct the Ministry's problems and to figure out ways to put those ideas into action."

"I guess I'm not following you. Why do you need me? Can't Kingsley just go ahead and make all of these changes? I mean he is the Minister for Magic after all."

"No, Harry. He's only the _temporary _Minister for Magic. If he were to attempt to make any of these changes now, Kingsley could very well be out on his ear within a week. In order for him to do any real good, Kingsley must be made the permanent Minister for Magic, but that is not something everyone is quite prepared to do."

"But why Mr. Weasley? Kingsley's the right choice for the job. He's a good man, he's not a politician, and he can get the right things done."

"Harry, I wish it were that simple. The fact is, not everyone was behind Kingsley's appointment as temporary Minister. As you said, he isn't a politician, and there are five or six individuals currently working in the Ministry, that thought, and still do feel, that they could do a right sight better than our Kingsley. Fortunately, leveler heads prevailed, and Kingsley was appointed. Now, much to the dismay of those individuals, Kingsley has done a bang up job so far. All they can do now keep a watchful eye and wait for Kingsley to make a mistake."

"But how could improving the Ministry be a mistake?"

"It isn't a mistake, Harry, but you have to consider the condition our world is in right now. People don't trust the Ministry very much at the moment. Can you honestly blame them after what they have been through over the past year? Many people are afraid that Kingsley will end up being no better than You-Know-Who."

"Kingsley? No better than Voldemort!" Harry said furiously as Mr. Weasley flinched slightly at hearing Voldemort's name said aloud. "That is complete bollocks! Don't these people know that Kingsley was a member of the Order of the Phoenix? Don't they know he was one of the few that was willing to stand up to Voldemort?"

"Of course they do, Harry," Mr. Weasley said in gentle and calming voice. "But not everyone knows Kingsley like you and I do. He's being forced to walk a very tight line right now, proving to everyone that he isn't the next dark wizard but also be someone that give people back their trust in the Ministry. If Kingsley were to go out now and announce all of these sweeping reforms for the Ministry, it could very well make many people afraid. You are familiar with what happened the last time the Ministry tried to make big 'reforms'," Mr. Weasley said as he held up two fingers on either side of his head when he said "reforms."

"Yeah, Voldemort was in charge and the Death Eaters were running everything."

Mr. Weasley flinched again before saying, "There you go."

"So, how will making a big announcement of my accepting a position in the Auror Department help Kingsley become the permanent Minister?"

"Whether you know it or not, Harry, the wizarding community thinks of you as the next Albus Dumbledore. They respect you. They believe in you, and most of all, they trust you Harry. I daresay that if you were to tell everyone that you wanted to be the next Minister for Magic, wizards and witches from here to Hogsmeade would be clamoring for you to take over. If they see that you trust Kingsley Shacklebolt enough to work in his government, then maybe he is someone that they should trust, as well."

"I see," Harry said, not really sure what to do next. It was not as though Mr. Weasley was asking very much of him. Then again, Scrimgeour had not asked too much of him either. He had to believe, however, that Kingsley and Mr. Weasley really were trying to do the right things with the Ministry. "Mr. Weasley, I know that you of all people would not ask this of me unless you felt very strongly that this is the right thing. That said, I can't agree to any of this unless I have a better idea of what you want to do. I can't throw my support behind the Minister if I don't like his plans for the future. I understand if can't tell me everything, but if you could give me some hint, it would be helpful."

Mr. Weasley smiled. "I thought you might say something like that." He stood up and crossed to his desk and grabbed a roll of parchment before returning to his seat next to Harry. "I think this will help you make up your mind."

Harry carefully unrolled the parchment. The top of the roll read "Plan No. 42," and it was followed by a list a different ideas. "This is the final list of reforms that we have come up with. The first ten are things we absolutely have to do. The next several are things we would like to do but aren't committed to. The final group is made up of reforms that would be nice to have but ones that we don't really need at all," Mr. Weasley said.

"You've been busy. Forty two different plans, that must be some kind of record or something."

"Actually, the number is closer to twenty. I gave them all a variety of different names, just so I could talk freely to the Minister about them without anyone knowing what we were discussing. Plan No. 42 contains what, we feel, are the best elements of each of the other plans. If you'd like, I can go over them with you in a bit more detail."

"Yeah, that would be great, actually."

Mr. Weasley spent several minutes going over Plan No. 42 with Harry. Overall, Harry liked most of the ideas. There was a plan that would prevent the Ministry from using the _Daily Prophet_, and any other wizarding publications and media outlets, as tools for its propaganda. Mr. Weasley preferred to call it by the muggle term "freedom of the press". There were numerous educational reforms that would prevent the Ministry from ever interfering at Hogwarts again. There were also plans to introduce an elected parliament, new criminal investigation procedures, new hiring procedures for new Ministry staff and officials, and most importantly, laws that would guarantee the rights of all wizards and witches.

Harry had to admit that the list was impressive. He especially liked the educational and press reforms, two areas that had been used against him in the past. Not everything was perfect with the list. There were a couple of ideas that Harry did not fully agree with or thought were impractical, but these were in the "would be nice" section, the part of the list whose ideas were probably not going to reach fruition anyway.

"So, Harry, what do you think?"

"It's not bad. I like most of the ideas. I think it will be really good for the Ministry."

"So, you're accepting the offer?"

"I'm willing to take the job. I want to become an auror, and as you said, that part stands no matter what, right?"

"Of course, Harry. The job is yours."

"As for the other part, the announcement, do you mind if I take a day to think about everything you've said?"

"Absolutely, Harry. What I'm asking you to do goes against your principals. You should take all the time you need."

"Don't worry. A day should be enough. I'll let you know tomorrow at dinner."

"Very well then," Mr. Weasley said. Harry looked at him trying to get a better idea of his mood. He expected to find a look of disappointment on Mr. Weasley's face, but this look was not there at all. Mr. Weasley's expression seemed to be one of complete satisfaction with the outcome of this meeting. More than likely, he could tell that Harry had already decided to lend his help. Harry was, in fact, elated that he once again had the opportunity to become an auror. He just had not wanted to seem to eager to accept the job yet. "I suppose you want to get back to your painting and all. Why don't I walk you out?"

Mr. Weasley led Harry back to the service lift he had taken out. "Well, Harry, thank you for taking the time to stop by, and I look forward to hearing your answer tomorrow. Remember, dinner will be sometime afte one. Everyone will be glad ot hear that you will be joining us."

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to it."

"Fleur's been giving Molly some lessons in French cooking, so be prepared for something a little different. Don't worry though. So far everything Molly's made for me has been quite good, and knowing her, she'll make far more food than we'll really need. So, as I said, bring you appetite. Oh, and Hermione said she was going to bring some photographs from her trip to Australia. We've all been dying to hear about everything about her adventure down under."

Harry stopped cold. "Her…Hermione's going to be at the Burrow tomorrow?"

"Why, yes Harry. Didn't mention that?"

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**_Hope you like this chapter. As always, critiques and comments are welcomed and appreciated._**


	10. Sunday Dinner at the Burrow

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. _**

**Sunday Dinner at the Burrow**

With his meeting with Mr. Weasley concluded, Harry returned to the confines of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He had intended to go back to his writing, but his mind kept wandering to the sudden news that Hermione would also be at Sunday dinner. Any excitement that had built up at the prospect of becoming an auror had quickly drained away, replacing it with a something that he likened more to terror. Harry was quite nervous about seeing her. It was not as though he did not want to see her or talk to her about what had happened. In fact, quite the opposite was true. He longed for the chance to set things right between them. What scared him the most was that their first meeting would be at the Burrow, surrounded by the Weasley family. There were a thousand other places that Hermione could have picked for their first encounter, all of which would have been much better. Granted, Mr. Weasley had only just invited Harry to dinner, so Hermione would not have known that he would be there also. Then again, she had to have known he probably would be; meaning Hermione had chosen tomorrow as the first time they would see each other. He had to think that she had a good reason for this. Hermione did not do anything without a good reason.

Harry was most surprised by the fact that Hermione had been back in England for a full two weeks. He had thought she was still in Australia, searching for her parents and was slightly annoyed with her for not at least telling him she had safely returned. As it was, Hermione had found her parents and had their memory charms reversed in just two days. The speed with which this was accomplished was made possible by the help of Mr. Weasley, who had put Hermione in touch with a contact of his at the Australian Ministry of Magic. She stayed with her parents for a week before returning to England. Her mother and father still remained in Australia to tie up a few loose ends and have a bit of a holiday. 

Unfortunately, Mr. Weasley could provide little other information as to how Hermione was doing or what she had been up to since her return. Much of what he had known came from his friend in Australia. The last he'd heard from Hermione was a note she had dropped him shortly after her return, thanking Mr. Weasley for all of his help in finding her parents. The only word anyone had received from her since was the reply to Mrs. Weasley's owl, accepting the invitation to dinner. 

* * *

Harry awoke late the next morning after very restless night of sleep. His dreams kept shifting between images of Mrs. Weasley tugging on his ears, stretching them to the point where they touched the floor, and to Hermione yelling and screaming that their friendship was over and that she never wanted to see him again. Part of him had wanted to cancel dinner, telling the Weasley's that he was sick, but he knew ten seconds after she received his message, Mrs. Weasley would be pounding down his front door. So, at five minutes to one, it was with some trepidation that Harry again stood on his front step, and disapparated away from his house, to where he was standing just a hundred feet from the Burrow and just in time see a large brown object flying straight for him. 

One quick move later and Harry had dropped to his knees, wondering just what that thing that had come within inches of striking his skull had been. Not knowing what else to expect he drew his wand and slowly stood up to his knees to see Fred and George Weasley charging towards him.

"Harry! Duck!" George yelled out.

"What?"

"DUCK!" Fred barked. The urgency of his tone told Harry to comply immediately. A half-second later, he heard a deep whooshing sound directly over his head. A moment or two later, the slight tap on his shoulder told Harry that it was safe to raise his head. He looked up to see Fred and George standing on either side of him. "You alright, Harry?" Fred asked.

Harry stood up in a huff and said, "If I'd've known that's how you two were going to greet me, I would have stayed in bed," Harry said angrily. 

"Sorry about that Harry. Honestly, we weren't trying to kill you," Fred said. "We didn't expect you to pop out right then and there."

"Ah, but it was worth it just to see the look on your face," George said before screwing up his face into a look the resembled some kind of exaggerated expression of shock, which put Fred rolling on the ground. 

"Come on, I didn't look like that," Harry said, hoping to God that he had not. 

"Yeah Harry, ya did!" Fred said, and then made the exact same face as his brother. With Fred and George both making the same stupid expressions, Harry could no longer hold back the laughter. Their looks were rather funny, after all. 

After a few more moments, when things began to die down, Harry was able to ask, "So, what the bloody hell was that thing?"

"What? You mean this?" George said as he pulled the long, flattened stick, angled in the middle, from his robes. "This, my friend is a Self-Guided Retrieve-All Boomerang. Go on, have a look." George passed the boomerang over to Harry. It looked like any other boomerang he had seen in pictures of his old muggle school books. It had the familiar wide "V" shape, which put the curved tips just over a foot apart from one another. The narrow arms fit comfortably in his hands. Harry was not sure what kind of wood that it was made from, but it was shaved down very thin and smooth. It finished in a light oak color, which allowed the only embellishment, a large letter "W" printed in black at the very top of the angle, to stand out quite well. 

"It retrieves any object you desire, so long as it's within a hundred yards and weighs less than five pounds," Fred added. 

"Couldn't you just use a summoning charm?" Harry asked. 

"You could, but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it?" George replied with a sly grin. 

"No, I don't suppose it would be," Harry said realizing the stupidity of his question. "So, is this a new product for the shop, or something?" he asked as he handed the boomerang back to George.

"It's more of a concept, really; a sort of prototype for a whole range of products that can retrieve objects," Fred answered. 

"We've had the idea for something like this for a while, but it was Hermione's little trip to Australia gave us the inspiration for the boomerang. It seemed like a cool way to try out our concept," George excitedly said.

"It took us nearly two weeks to figure out the right combination of spells to get this baby to work right, but we got there in the end," Fred added.

"We perfected it this morning, and we were just testing it out by chucking garden gnomes out into the field and having the boomerang bring them back. It's been working perfectly," George said, sounding quite pleased.

"So, why exactly aren't you going to sell it in the shop?" Harry wondered. 

"Because boomerangs are qualified as muggle artifacts, and that means we can't really market them to our customers," George said. 

"That and dad'd if we broke any laws against the misuse of muggle artifacts," Fred concurred. "The only way he said we could make our prototype was to make the magic impermanent. It will only last a day, two at most, and then this is just a normal boomerang again." 

"Plus, there is some issue of safety, Harry," George said. "Boomerangs were originally meant to be weapons, you see. That means that this thing could do a serious bit of damage to someone."

"But I thought that a bit of danger was always part of the fun for you guys," Harry said, surprised that the Weasley twins were showing some unexpected restraint. 

"For us, yes, but as for our customers, that's a different story, altogether," Fred said. "Harry you know better than anyone that our products don't cause severe physical harm. A little discomfort maybe, but nothing serious. This thing, on the other hand…well, just imagine what would have happened if you would have apparated just a second later. It would be very bad for business if one of our boomerangs caused someone a severe head wound just because they accidentally stepped in the way." 

How close he had come to death was not something that had escaped Harry, but for all he had been through, even the image of him lying on the ground the boomerang sticking out of his skull, now banging around in his head, was something that was of little concern. He realized, however, that there was some merit to the twins' sudden hesitancy with one of their products. 

"But now that we have the right spells, we can start making products that are both safer to use…" 

"And don't break any statutes against the misuse of muggle artifacts statutes. That'll make mum happy. She's always worried that we're going to break the law or something."

"Oh, and speaking of Mum, Harry, you wouldn't mind not bringing your near miss up. She'll have a fit if she thinks we almost killed you," George implored.

"But that wasn't your fault. You didn't expect me to apparate right there. Your mum can't blame you for that." Harry said.

"Be that as it may, Harry, Mum won't quite see it that way. She'll say we weren't being careful enough no matter how you try to spin it," Fred added, sounding equally worried.

Realizing that they were probably right, Harry agreed to Fred and George's request, on the provision that neither of them ever made that stupid face of his again. "What, you mean this face?" Fred said before quickly contorting his face into the same expression as before. This set all three of them off into laughter again. "Alright, fair enough," Fred said as their laughter died down. 

"Agreed," George added. "I suppose we'd better get you inside, Harry. Frankly, I'm starving, and everyone's been dying to see you, especially Mum. She's can't wait to fret about how undernourished she expects you to look."

"And Hermione's been asking when you were going to get here about every five minutes. It's one of the reasons we decided to sneak out here. She was becoming quite annoying," Fred said.

"Hermione's already here then?" Harry asked trying not to sound nervous.

"Oh yeah. She arrived a little while ago, and it seems she's quite anxious to see you, young Harry," Fred said in a tone that was quite suggestive in its meaning. Harry knew that Fred was only joking, but he tried very hard to ignore it nonetheless.

The three of them headed towards the door of the Burrow. "Hope your hungry Harry. Mum and Fleur have been cooking all morning long. I'm not too sure about the fare today though. Fleur's been teaching Mum French cuisine," George said as they walked.

"Yeah, your dad mentioned that," said Harry.

"You've spoken with Dad?" Fred asked.

"Umm…yeah…I…er…I had a meeting with him yesterday," Harry said back instantly wishing that he had not mentioned their meeting at all. Mr. Weasley had made it clear the day before that he wanted to keep their little get together a secret. Fred and George knew how to keep a secret better than anyone, but the fact that they were not even aware that Harry had met with their father spoke volumes as to how secret Mr. Weasley wanted their meeting to be. 

"Really? In his office?" George asked this time. "He didn't say anything about meeting with you."

"Anything we need to know about, Harry?" Fred said, sounding much more curious.

"It was nothing special really. Your dad wanted my help with something, that's all," Harry said trying to play everything down. 

"Come on Harry. Look who you're talking to. You don't have a meeting with a high ranking Ministry official, in their office, unless it's about something important. You may as well tell us now because you know we're going to find out sooner or later," said George.

"Guys, I've said all that I think I should say. If you want to know anything else, you'll just have to wait to find out like everyone else." Neither Fred nor George seemed too happy with Harry's answer, but they did not press the issue any further. Harry did suspect that as soon as they entered the house, they would be grilling their father for answers. 

Harry steered the conversation away from his meeting with Mr. Weasley and onto the joke shop. During the unpleasantness of the past several months, business had taken an entirely not unexpected down turn, but things were steadily returning to normal with sales again growing on an almost daily basis. Now the twins were once again running the leading wizarding joke shop in all of Britain and were also in negotiations to purchase the now defunct Zonko's joke shop in Hogsmeade; a plan they had previously been forced to abandon during Harry's sixth year, when the school trips to the only all wizarding village in Britain had been brought to end. 

Upon reaching the door to the house, George and Fred led the way into the house with Harry in tow. Everyone greeted him as though he were a long lost member of the family whom they had not seen in years. Mrs. Weasley immediately pulled Harry into one of her patented tight hugs. She had changed considerably in the three weeks since Harry had seen her last. She had lost a noticeable amount of weight and the flecks of grey now present in her hair made her seem, somehow, older, and even though she was genuinely happy that Harry had arrived, there was still a pronounced look of sadness in her eyes. The look sadness was something Harry had expected. Losing two of your children on the same day did that sort of thing to people. 

The rest of the Weasley family had a similar look to one degree or another. Even Fred and George, who had been upbeat when Harry arrived, seemed to be sinking into their own kind of funky mood. Percy, in particular, was almost as bad off as his mother. In time, Harry would learn that the guilt over ignoring his family for two years only compounded the grief of losing a brother and his sister. Of the entire Weasley family, Fleur seemed the most upbeat. She seemed to have a certain radiant glow about her that only seemed to make her look even more beautiful than she already was. Although not even she was aware of it yet, Fleur's radiance was the effect of her pregnancy, which would be discovered and announced in the ensuing weeks. 

But Harry was not really concerned about Fleur and her beauty. As he shook hands with everyone, he glanced around, looking for the one face that mattered to him at that moment. He soon caught sight of Hermione while shaking hands with Mr. Weasley. His heart began beating faster in anticipation of the moment when they would finally meet each other again. As he was greeted by the rest of the Weasley family, Harry periodically glanced in her direction to see her standing, waiting with a nervous patience, fidgeting slightly, and looking as though she was trying to figure out just what she was supposed to be doing with her hands. He realized that Hermione was just as anxious about their encounter as he was; a fact that put him a little more at ease. Again and again, their eyes would meet for the briefest of seconds, before both of them quickly looked away only to find their gazes apprehensively returning to each other once more. 

At last, the moment arrived. Harry found himself standing just a few feet away from Hermione. "Hello, Harry," Hermione said, offering him a small, uneasy smile. 

"Hi, Hermione," Harry replied, quickly wishing that he had been a little smoother with his delivery. Then, Hermione made a motion towards him, ready to give him a hug. Harry, not wanting everyone else to think something odd was going on between the two of them, accepted her embrace. It was obvious from the moment they joined together that they both felt very awkward being so close to one another again, and neither held on too tightly. It was also kept very short, lasting only for an instant. When they parted, both took a step back, putting a good two feet of space in between them. 

"How have…," both of them said to each other at the same time. Hermione made an anxious little laugh before asking again, "How have you been?"

"I'm…alright, and you?"

"I'm okay. I guess. I managed to find my parents and get their memories fixed."

"Yeah, I heard that. I'm really glad you were able to get them sorted out." 

An uncomfortable silence set in between them, almost as though both of them were waiting for the other to say the next words. There were so many things Harry wanted to say to her, things that he hoped would make things right between them, but it was Hermione who summoned up the courage first. "Listen, Harry, I'm really sorry that I haven't been in touch," she said in a low, quiet voice. "I know, I shouldn't have left things the way they were, but I didn't know what else to do."

"It's alright, Hermione. We both had a lot to think about, and you needed time. I think we both needed some time to figure things out." Hermione seemed to relax a little bit and let out a soft, gentle smile.

"I was thinking that you and I should talk. Maybe after dinner we could go for a coffee or something…I mean if you want to, of course." Hermione looked as though her whole life depended on his answer, a feeling which Harry fully understood.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Harry said trying to give a reassuring smile. "We've…er…we've definitely got some catching up to do."

"Great. So, after dinner then?"

"Yeah, definitely."

There was a slight coughing sound and both of them turned to see Mr. Weasley, "I'm sorry to interrupt. Hermione, I was wondering if I might have a quick word with Harry. I promise it won't take long, and then you two can get back to catching up." 

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, not quite being able to hide her relief that Mr. Weasley had mercifully brought an end to a somewhat uneasy moment. Even Harry had to admit that he was glad his first meeting with Hermione was over. It had gone as well as could have been expected, not great, but certainly far from terrible. "Harry, we'll talk later," Hermione said before leaving them and walking off to the kitchen.

"So, Harry, I was just wondering if you'd had a chance to think about what we'd discussed yesterday?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Oh…yeah, I have given it some thought," Harry said quickly lying. He hadn't given their conversation a single thought. Other things had been on his mind after their meeting, leaving him little room to consider anything else. Fortunately, there was a really was not much to think about. By the time he had left Mr. Weasley's office, the day before, he had pretty much decided to let them make their big announcement. He had only wanted to take a day to turn the idea over in his mind a few more times just to make certain, but Harry doubted much more thought would have done little to change his mind. 

"Good. Might I ask if you have come to a decision?" Mr. Weasley asked sounding hopeful.

"If you think a big announcement will help things out, then I suppose that would be alright. I figure I owe Kinglsey for putting his neck on the line for me so many times. It's the least I can do for him."

"Wonderful, Harry! Simply wonderful!"

"When do you think you'll be making the announcement, Mr. Weasley?"

"As soon as possible. I'm going straight off to send a Patronus to the Minister, and he'll probably be making the announcement in the morning. I imagine the news will be something in the tomorrow's evening edition of the _Prophet._ I cannot thank you enough. You really don't know what a help this will be, and I promise you Harry, you will not regret it."

"It's no problem Mr. Weasley."

"Harry…" Mrs. Weasley suddenly spoke, "…would you mind giving Fred and George a hand setting up the tables outside. You and Arthur can finish your business after we eat." She spoke in a tone that was eerily reminiscent of the previous summer when she had learned that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not returning to school. That, along with the cold stare now directed at Mr. Weasley, told Harry that Mrs. Weasley was fully aware and did not approve of what he and her husband were now discussing. Like before, this was her attempt to prevent any discussion of things she was not on board for.

"Yeah, sure, Mrs. Weasley," Harry responded, electing not to make any waves at this moment in time. He quickly made his way outside to find the twins busy setting up the tables under Fleur's direction.

The meal itself was up to Mrs. Weasley's usual standards of excellence. As predicted, the cuisine was French, which meant that the portions were rather small as tradition dictated, but the sheer number of courses, six in total, more than made up for the portion size. The first course was a partridge terrine. This was followed by a grilled salmon with some kind sauce that Harry could not place but was tasty none-the-less. He devoured the main course of boeuf bourguignon. A salad nicoise followed the main course. For desert, they had chocolate mousse, a dish that Harry found more than made up for the salad course. The final course were individual a cheese tarts. After getting past the fact that desert was not the final part of the meal, Harry found the cheese tart to be quite scrumptious. 

Also unlike the dinners in the past, this one started out as a subdued affair. No one really seemed willing to talk about anything, making for a sort of uncomfortable silence. To make matters worse, Harry and Hermione had been seated directly across from one another. This forced them to have to look at each other. They spent most of the first few minutes trying to avoid eye contact with and generally trying to ignore each other's presence. Yet, try as they might, it was something that neither of them seemed capable of doing entirely. Harry could not help but look Hermione's way every so often and seemingly always at the same moment she was glancing towards him. Their eyes would meet briefly of moments, before each turned away from the other. This only served to make Harry feel more ashamed at himself for what he had done. Still, it could have been worse. They could have been seated right next to each other. 

As they were finishing their partridge terrines, Bill finally broke the silence by asking Hermione about her trip to Australia. She spent the better part of the fish course relating the tale of her trip to everyone. Her parents had set up a small but thriving dental practice in a suburb of the South Australian capital of Adelaide. Hermione kept her parents as dentists, the only part of their past life that she had allowed them to retain. It was, in fact, the main reason she was able to find them so quickly. As hard as it was to believe, throughout the entire continent of Australia there happened to be only one set of husband and wife dentists from England who went by the names of Wendell and Monica Wilkins. 

The rest of Hermione's story for the most part concentrated on some of the sights she had seen and strayed away from anything that was more personal in nature. Then it was Harry's turn to tell everyone what he had been up to for the past three weeks. "There's not much to tell really. Hermione suggested that I do something with the house, so mostly I've been doing a lot of painting. I figured that if I was going to live there, I might as well make it a little more livable."

"Painting eh? That place could definitely do with a touch up or two," Bill said back.

"Bill! It is rude for you to say such things about 'arry's home!" Fleur interjected.

"What? Darling, I'm sure Harry isn't offended, are you Harry?"

"Not at all. Bill's right, Fleur. Until the Order began using it, the house had pretty much sat empty for ten years. Even the good cleaning we gave it still couldn't take away its… dreariness…"

"Or the house elf heads…"

"Or that bloody picture of Sirius's mum," both Fred and George added. 

"Exactly." Harry went on telling them everything he had done to the house up to that point. As he spoke he glanced over to find Hermione staring at him with look that was a mix of both pride and gratitude. 

"Sounds like you've kept yourself busy, Harry," Bill said when Harry was finished. "So, I guess you're planning on staying there for a while?"

"I suppose. I don't think my aunt and uncle would be too happy to have me back. Besides, it's kind of nice having my own place."

"Have you given any thought as to what you are going to do next?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, there's been a lot of speculation and rumors surrounding what you might do," Bill said. "The more preposterous have you taking over security at Gringott's or you joining the Chudley Cannons as their seeker…"

"That wouldn't be a bad idea…" Fred interrupted.

"Yeah, they might actually win a match or two with you Harry," George added.

"Couldn't hurt, them." Bill said. "But surely you've given it some thought. There must be one or two worthwhile prospects on the horizon for you, Harry."

"Umm…there was this one thing…" Harry looked down the table at Mr. Weasley, not knowing if he should tell everyone yet. 

Mr. Weasley, in turn, nodded back and said, "Alright. You all might as well know the truth now. You'll be hearing about it soon enough, and it's probably best that you hear it now rather than read about it in the papers." Everyone peered down at Mr. Weasley with curious looks. "Harry, here, has graciously agreed to accept a position with the Ministry. He is going to be our next addition to the Auror Department." 

The entire table sat in stunned silence, looking back and forth between Harry and Mr. Weasley. "'arry, zis is wonderful news," Fleur finally said with a bright smile.

"Yeah, Harry, congratulations," Bill added.

Everyone proceeded to offer their congratulations. Fred and George jokingly said that they would now have to be on their best behavior when Harry was around. Mrs. Weasley was the only one who did not say anything to Harry. Instead, she sat, stone faced and looking forward, refusing to even look at him. Harry was certain that she definitely did not approve of his future profession. 

With this new revelation, dinner began to take a more buoyant feel. Everyone began talking and having quiet conversations. Harry and Hermione, however, continued with her silence towards one another, each speaking to the other only when it was necessary. When dinner was over, Hermione broke out her photos from her trip and began passing them around the table as Mrs. Weasley began clearing the dishes. Harry offered to help clear the table, but Mrs. Weasley insisted that he relax and look at Hermione's pictures. After several minutes, Harry was the only one who seemed to notice that Mrs. Weasley had not returned from the house to collect the remaining dishes. He quietly excused himself on the pretense of needing to use the toilet, and made his way into the house.

He found Mrs. Weasley sitting at the kitchen table. She was staring at a picture that hung on the wall across from her. It was a picture of her family. The figures of her children were moving around, smiling, and laughing. Harry looked back at Mrs. Weasley, and he could see the streak of tears flowing down her face. "Mrs. Weasley, is everything alright?"

She jumped slightly, before turning to look at him. "Oh! Harry, I didn't hear you come in." Mrs. Weasley quickly got out of her chair and moved towards the sink, putting her back to Harry. He could see her bring her hand to her face to quickly wipe away the tears. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Harry said, now embarrassed by his intrusion.

"No. No. It's perfectly alright dear. I was just thinking," she said, still keeping her back to him. He watched her begin cleaning the dishes she had already brought into the house. Harry quietly walked towards her, stopping next to Mrs. Weasley. She did not look over to him, keeping her attention to the dishes in the sink. "Congratulations on your new job."

"Yeah. Thanks. I take it that you're not very happy with my decision to become an auror?" he asked carefully.

She turned to Harry, finally looking into his eyes as a calm reassuring look came over her face. "It's not that Harry. I'm a mother. I worry. It's something that can't be helped. No matter how old any of my children get or how good at their jobs they might be, I'm still going to worry about them. That includes you. I still worry about Charlie working with those dragons or that Fred and George will blow themselves up experimenting with some new product for that shop of theirs. Heavens, you should have seen what a wreck I was when Bill first decided to become a curse breaker for Gringott's."

"So, you don't want me to take the job?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't be more comfortable with you choosing to take a nice, quiet job sitting behind a desk somewhere, but I know how badly you've wanted to become an auror. I'm not going to stand in the way of what will make you happy. Besides, you'd hate sitting at a desk. You'd never be content unless you were right in the thick of things. So, please Harry, take the job. I'd feel terrible if you decided not to do it because of me."

Harry grabbed Mrs. Weasley. This time it was his turn to give her a tight hug. "Thank you, for this," he said as he pulled away.

Mrs. Weasley put her hand on his cheek. "Harry, you will be a great auror. Just don't expect me to stop worrying about you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"And please, promise me that you will pay attention during your training and above all, to be careful."

"Cross my heart," Harry said, unable to hold back the smile on his face.

"Now that we've had our little talk, you should go back outside. I'm certain everyone's wondering where you've gotten to."

"I'd be happy to help you finish the dishes."

"No…no. You run along. This won't take me a tick."

"Alright." Harry began walking towards the door but stopped as he put his hand on the door knob. "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes dear?"

"Tonight, after I leave, you should ask your husband to tell you the truth."

"The truth about what Harry?" she asked, suddenly sounding alarmed.

"That night after the battle, he and I talked, and I told him the whole story about everything that we saw and did last year. Just tell Mr. Weasley that I said it was time you learned the truth. You deserve to know."

"Why can't you tell me Harry?"

"Because, it'll take a while, and I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about that again, at least not without another bottle of firewhiskey to help things along." With that, Harry opened the door and walked back outside. 

* * *

**_So, Chapter 10 is done, finally. Took me a while but here it is. As always, any constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged. _**


	11. Best Laid Plans

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

**_Alright. Here it is. Finally. _**

**Best Laid Plans...**

Harry closed the notebook and it on the desk before leaning back in his chair. Molly Weasley did not do as Harry suggested. "I'd rather hear it from you, Harry," she said to him shortly before he and Hermione left the Burrow. "You will tell me when you are ready." Several months passed before Harry finally had the nerve to tell her, and the rest of the family, the truth about what had happened. In all that time, she never asked him or put any kind of pressure on him to tell her anything, allowing Harry the time and space to build up the nerve to finally speak the truth. The first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts was the day that he chose to finally say what needed to be said. It seemed like the most appropriate time. The events from a year before were again weighing heavily on everyone's minds, and it was easy for Harry to find a moment to break the truth. Since that day, Harry had grown to appreciate the fact Molly insisted that he be the one to tell his story. He would have regretted leaving that task to her husband.

The grandfather clock just down the hall from his study began chiming off the hours. It tolled six times. Harry looked up towards the ceiling. His bedroom was the room just above this one. Closing his eyes, Harry could imagine Hermione lying there, curled up under the sheets, sleeping peacefully. He allowed his mind to imagine running his fingers through her hair and just losing himself in their fragrance. He so wanted to return to her once more and let the warmth of her body sooth him into sleep.

Yet sleep was not something he could have right now. His heart was racing, beating far too fast to let him fall into slumber. A sudden surge of adrenalin was coursing through his veins now, exciting him to an anxious state. Hermione would be up soon, in hour, perhaps two because of their late night. Then he would have to tell her, a task that Harry was suddenly finding to be almost insurmountable. It wasn't so much saying the words that were the problem. Instead it was more the way in which he had to say them that was the problem. He simply had to tell her in the right way. He couldn't just go blurting them out, although that was his first inclination. It would be the simplest and easiest path to take, but he seriously doubted that Hermione would want to hear them in that way. Harry wished that she were more like a normal person who enjoyed having a nice lie in on Sunday mornings. Then he might have more time to come up with some idea of how he might tell her what he felt for her. As it was, Hermione's insane idea of sleeping in was getting up by eight o'clock. Truthfully, he wouldn't have it any other way. Hermione wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't do something like that.

Over the next several minutes, Harry racked his brain trying to come up with a solution to this little problem. He managed to come up with several options, none of which seemed like really good ideas. After discarding the blurt-out idea, the thought of some kind of grand gesture might be the way to go, but even then, none of those ideas seemed very good. Harry even went so far as to contemplate proposing marriage. On the surface, this wasn't a bad idea, really. It would tell her how he felt about her, and marrying Hermione was something he ultimately wanted.

However, this idea was not without certain complications. He did not have any sort of engagement ring. It wouldn't be right to propose without having one of those at hand, but this really was not his main concern. What concerned him more was that they had never once talked about where this relationship might be going, a fact that was a little disconcerting. Despite his instinctual belief that she felt the same about him, the idea that Hermione would not at least mention a possible future together could mean that she treated this relationship the same way he once had. Before he could even think about proposing marriage, Harry needed to know where he stood with Hermione first.

There was something else that had to be considered also: how to take their relationship public. They had gone to great lengths to keep their relationship secret, even from the Weasley family. That meant not dating in public, at least not in places where other witches and wizards frequented. In the muggle world, they could be just a normal couple. Thankfully, the muggle world was far bigger than the wizarding one, which made things easier. Places like Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade were where they had to be careful, although this was more of a slight inconvenience rather than real problem. All they really had to do was not stand too close to one another. Until recently, this had not been very hard for Harry as he had refused to think of Hermione as his girlfriend.

Then there was work. Hermione worked as a Senior Assistant in the Beings Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. This meant that they both worked at the Ministry. However, since Hermione liked to come into work very early, they never arrived together, and her office was two floors away from Harry's, which meant that their paths rarely ever crossed during the usual working day. Most of the time they only saw each other during their regular lunch every Wednesday in the Ministry's staff canteen. Since everyone knew they were good friends, totally ignoring each other completely might appear as though they were trying to hide something.

All in all, Harry was confident that only Hermione's parents knew that he was romantically involved with their daughter. Since, they were muggles, and therefore, not in much of a position to tell anyone from the wizarding world it seemed alright to let them in on the secret. The hardest part was not telling Hagrid, but as much as both of them loved their former Care of Magical Creatures professor, they also knew that his tongue tended to slip from time to time, especially when he went down to the pub.

The reasons for their secrecy were really nothing more than a simple desire for privacy. Both of them remembered well what happened in the weeks that followed the Battle of Hogwarts. There was no denying how famous Harry was, and Hermione's close friendship with him, coupled with her little run at Lord Voldemort shortly before Harry dispatched him permanently, meant that she too had gained a substantial amount of celebrity as well. Needless to say, there was a lot of speculation surrounding both of them, in particular, just how close their friendship truly was. All of this in a time when they were trying to build a new friendship that was never intended to become romantic.

This speculation was sparked by that kiss to his forehead when everyone thought Harry was lying dead on the grass just outside of the castle. The kiss was nothing more than a way for her to say goodbye, but inevitably, the story of it got out. The _Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly,_ and a half-dozen other periodicals began to pervert the kiss into some far flung fantastic notion of some heated romantic affair. Harry and Hermione did not do anything help themselves either. They were seen together, in public, on more than one occasion. It didn't matter that they never held hands or kissed or did anything else that would ever give anyone even remotest notion that they were involved with one another. The mere fact that they were together was enough to lend credence to rumors.

As it always does, the gossip died down after a few weeks when it became quite apparent that there really wasn't anything going on between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. People moved on and became interested in other celebrities. From time to time, some rumor or other cropped up. Most of them disappeared quickly, mainly because they were so outrageous that few people took them seriously. A recent rumor had paired Harry with Arthur's assistant, Harriet. Harriet was a nice lady who clearly had some kind of crush on him, but she was also a bit scattered. Except for the fact that Harriet did not go around constantly predicting Harry's certain demise, she reminded him of Professor Trelawney. The thought of dating Harriet was almost enough to send shivers down his spine.

The rumor mongering wasn't the real problem. Instead, it was all of the stares and the hushed whispers that were directed at both of them. Harry was long used to this sort of behavior from others, having experienced it for a good portion of his life. He barely even noticed it and ignored it when he did. Hermione, on the other hand, had not been accustomed to that sort of conduct when it was directed towards her, and she never did fully get used to it. There were also the pestering questions that people kept asking her about Harry. This continued for months after the rumors died down. Women wanted to know what kind of kisser Harry was, what his bedroom looked like, and even the size of a certain part of his anatomy. It was slightly amusing to her at first, but after a while it became quite an annoyance. More than a year went by before the questions finally stopped. For Hermione, these were the reasons she wanted their relationship kept on the quiet side.

Harry's concern for keeping their relationship out of the gossip columns, on the other hand, had less to do with the public reading about his love life and more to do with keeping those he cared about from discovering the truth by reading the newspapers. He was most concerned about how Molly would receive the news, really. He wasn't terribly worried about the rest of the family. They would probably welcome the news that Harry had moved on and found a new love. Molly, on the other hand was a different story. It had taken her a lot longer, and Harry doubted that she would ever truly be over the loss of Ron and Ginny. He had always heard that the worst experience for any parent was to bury their own children. When he finally had told her about his relationship with Ginny, the news had saddened Molly even more. It would have made her very happy if Harry had been able to really join her family. Now, Harry was concerned over how she might take the sudden news that he was in a long-term romantic relationship with Hermione. When it did happen, he owed it to her to be the one to tell her.

Over the past few months, Fleur had only served to reinforce his concern. She had taken it upon herself to play matchmaker for Harry, attempting to set him up with her cousin, Amelie. She even showed Harry a picture of her cousin. Amelie shared the same veela grandmother as Fleur, and like Fleur, Amelie was absolutely gorgeous. Harry remembered seeing her at the wedding. In all honesty, from what he could recall of her that day, the photograph did not do Amelie any justice either. "I 'ave shown Amelie your photograph too, 'arry. She sinks you are very 'andsome," Fleur told Harry, hoping to entice him into meeting her cousin. Harry was always appreciative of her efforts, and as appealing as Amelie was, he wasn't interested in dating her. So far he had always been able to come up with some kind of excuse not to meet Amelie.

Through all of this, Molly had not seemed overly appreciative of Fleur's efforts to find a girlfriend for Harry. She had been polite by not saying anything or trying to force Fleur to put a stop to her attempts. Instead, it was more the not so subtle looks of disapproval that Molly gave whenever Fleur so much as mentioned Harry and her cousin in the same sentence that clued him in to this fact. This only served to confirm his belief that she might not like the news that he was involved with Hermione. Still, Molly was one of the strongest persons Harry had ever known. She might not like the news at first, but she would come around in the end. His happiness was more important to her than something like this. If Harry was happy, she would probably grow to accept it. Everything would be alright, so long as she heard it from him first.

Harry found it hard to concentrate with all of these thoughts and ideas running through his head. At a time like this, the only thing that could help him was flying. Every now and then, when he was having trouble wrapping his head around a problem, or when he simply wanted some time to himself, Harry liked to grab his broom and take to the skies for an hour or two. It helped him to clear his thoughts making all those little problems or stress to melt away, if only for a little while. When he landed, he was more relaxed, more focused, and the solution to whatever problem he was facing would usually come soon thereafter. Sadly, he didn't get to fly very often. Living in a muggle neighborhood made it a somewhat difficult prospect. He had to confine his flying to the hours after midnight, when the rest of the world was soundly sleeping in their beds, and if the moon was out, he had to use the disillusionment charm to make himself invisible. Tonight, however, was moonless, not requiring that. Harry looked at his watch. It would still be dark for another hour at least. He had enough time for a quick flight.

Harry rose from his chair and quickly made his way to the hall closet, where he donned the warmest clothes that he could find and grabbed his broom which was tucked neatly behind the hanging coats. With his Firebolt lost somewhere between Little Whinging and Andromeda Tonks's house, Harry was left broomless. He ended up purchasing a refurbished Cleansweep a couple of years ago. He had given some thought to getting another Nimbus or even one of the new Mark-2 Firebolts, but those brooms were meant to be used often and ridden fast. It seemed pointless to spend all that money on something he would get ride only periodically.

With his broom in hand, Harry quietly made his way to the door and out into the back garden. It was even colder outside than he had expected, making Harry glad that he had bundled up so much. The garden, though average in size, was surrounded by higher than normal fences, another one of his steps towards privacy. He quietly took the steps down into the garden and towards its center where a stone birdbath, left over by the previous residents, sat. A tap of his wand on the stone, and the birdbath began glowing in bright, red color. It was a beacon charm, meant to help any witch or wizard find their way. Harry started using it after his first flight from this back yard. He discovered that at night, all of the streets in this neighborhood looked the same, and after landing in the backyard of a house two streets over, he decided it might be a good idea to have something to help him find his way back home. He wasn't worried about the bright red glow attracting too much attention. Only people with magical ability could see it.

Harry straddled his broom and kicked off the ground. He rose gently into the air, just high enough to clear the roofs of the surrounding houses, and then leaned forward, sending himself and the broom flying off to the South. Before long, he was out over the open fields and away from the city. Looking up into the sky, he could see thousands of stars twinkling. More importantly, all of the anxiety and jumble of different thoughts had drained away with the first blast of cold air to his face. His mind became centered and focused, but not exactly where he wanted it to be. Harry found that his mind was straying back to that night after he and Hermione left the Burrow. As much as he tried to concentrate on figuring out his little problem, his mind kept going back to that night. After a few moments, Harry let his mind wander to where it wanted to go. It was that night that put him on the path that led to where he is now.

They left around dusk that night, after several hugs from Mrs. Weasley and a promise to return next Sunday for dinner. It was still warm outside, the afternoon breeze had long-since subsided. They walked silently for almost a minute. Harry thought he should say something to break the silence but wasn't quite sure what. Thankfully, he did not have to. "Congratulations on becoming an auror, Harry," Hermione said. "I know how badly you wanted that. I'm really happy for you."

Harry stopped and looked at Hermione. She wasn't just saying it to be polite. She really was happy for him. "Thanks," he said back to her. "Listen, Hermione, I'm really sorry about what happened."

"Harry, I know you are, but please, I don't want you to be. I didn't do anything to stop it either. We did it, together, the two of us. I'm not going to let you put this all on yourself. Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer it if we didn't discuss this here. Between what we did and seeing you here for the first time since then, it's just been too weird. I really do wish I had picked some other place for us to meet."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. Why did you choose here?"

"Well, I thought if we spent some time near each other, without having to talk about what happened we might get to feel more comfortable around one another when it was time to have that conversation."

"And you don't feel comfortable being around me yet?"

"No, Harry, it isn't that at all. I just didn't expect how I'd feel about being back here…you know…without him around. It was harder than I'd expected."

Throughout this entire day, the unusual feeling that Ron and Ginny were not here had been pushed to the back of his mind. He had been far more worried about the effect Hermione's presence would have on him. Harry suddenly felt bad that he had not given them more thought and at how easy it had been to push them from his mind. Then, even in the moonlight, he noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't look as though she were about to break, "I'm sorry," she said while wiping her eyes, "I thought I was past all this."

"Hermione, you don't need to apologize for anything. I understand. It's been hard. I know that. You can't expect to get over it all so soon. You've got to give it time. That's all either of us can do."

"Thanks, Harry." Hermione said, with a faint smile.

"Now, why don't we get out here. Wherever you want to go is alright by me."

"Umm…I was sort of thinking we could go to your house…if that's alright, I mean."

"Sure, I suppose," Harry replied, surprised that Hermione would want to go there of all places. "That's alright with you?"

"Well, it's not as though there are a lot of places open on a Sunday night, and I honestly don't fancy going to a pub. I was going to suggest that we go to my parents' house, but it's a bit of a mess right now. I still haven't finished unpacking yet. Besides, I kind of want to see all the things you've done with your place."

"Alright, fair enough."

Hermione apparated them both to Harry's house. Harry's ability to apparate not withstanding, Hermione refused to allow him to apparate on his own. He had neglected to take his Apparition's exam. It had been alright for him to apparate when they had been on the run as fugitives, but now that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were gone, Hermione's always-obey-the-rules nature took over. She forbade Harry to apparate anywhere on his own until he passed his test. The previous few minutes had given him some hope that everything between them would be okay, something that Harry had not wanted to ruin by arguing with her over something as petty as apparating without a license. More importantly, it meant that she still cared about him and that somewhere in there, the old Hermione he had known before the war and the Battle was still lurking, waiting to return.

When they arrived at the top front step of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry opened the door and ushered Hermione into the house. "Wow, Harry! This is amazing!" she exclaimed upon seeing the newly painted entry way. "I can't believe you did this all by yourself. I can't wait to see the rest of the house."

"Well, I've only really managed to get the ground floor and parts of the first floor done so far," Harry responded.

"That's alright. I wouldn't have expected you to get it all done in three weeks." Hermione quickly answered with an excited twinkle in her eye.

"Okay, follow me then. I'll show you what I've finished so far." Harry slowly led her through the house showing her each of the rooms he had painted. He told her the story of his first attempt at painting the entry way, which had her laughing almost uncontrollably. Overall, she seemed impressed by Harry's work. She walked through each room studying each wall carefully, looking for some kind of mistake or missed spot, but much her surprise, could find none. That didn't mean she could not come up with a few suggestions. According to her, Harry needed to get new curtains and upholstery for the furniture to match the new color of the walls.

Nearly three quarters of an hour had passed before the finally settled at the kitchen table. They had not been here together since the time they had been planning their infiltration of the Ministry almost a year before. Now, they were here for an entirely different purpose, one that was almost as delicate as getting into the Ministry had been. Harry would have preferred doing this in the sitting room. He could tell almost immediately that it was the room Hermione liked the best, and more than anything, he wanted her to feel comfortable. Instead, they just ended up here, each with a butterbeer in their hands, waiting for the right moment to start up the conversation they originally came here for.

"I see you went with my color suggestions," she said smiling, almost looking proud with herself.

"Yeah. I decided to try you suggestions on the sitting room, and after I finished it, I figured you had a better handle on it than me. So, I decided just to go with the choices that you'd written on your list. All except that bright yellow color you put down for the stair case. I couldn't stand that one."

Hermione laughed a little. "To be honest, I didn't like it either, but I thought we should keep our options open."

"I can't imagine what Kreacher would have thought of such a bright color either."

"Speaking of Kreacher, where is he? I'd like to say 'Hello' to him."

"I don't know. He's around somewhere…probably upstairs with his mistress or something. I could call him if you like."

"No, that's okay. Don't bother him," she said before falling silent. She took a sip of her butterbeer before focusing her eyes to a small stain on the table top while Harry sat not really knowing what to say next. Then Hermione finally looked at him and asked, "Harry, I'm curious about that night. Why did you kiss me?"

Harry took a deep breath, finally glad that she had broken the silence and found a way to start their conversation on what really mattered. Unfortunately, he did not have a real answer to her question. All Harry could do was look down at his butterbeer and say, "I don't know really. I just saw you there, crying, and for whatever reason, I just felt like kissing you. I wish I had a better reason why," Harry said rather sheepishly. "All I can say is that it felt like the right thing to do at the time, but I want you to know that I wasn't trying to advantage of you."

"Of course you weren't, Harry. I could never believe that you would. You're far too chivalrous to do something like that to anyone. I was really just sort of wondering if there might be some other reason why you kissed me. I mean we had been getting very close to one another, and I thought maybe there was another reason."

"No. There's no other reason I can think of. I mean I care about, Hermione, but not in that way. When you kissed me back, did you do it because you had another reason?"

"What? N-no Harry," Hermione said quickly. "I kissed you back for the same reason you kissed me…because it felt right. It made me feel better. It made me forget about everything. You're a very good kisser, Harry," she added, her face turning slightly red at the admission. "It all felt so good that I didn't want those good feelings to end. I wanted to do everything possible to keep them going. Then I sort just lost control of myself. I think that's why we slept together that night. We had both been feeling so horrible for so long that we wanted something, anything that could make us feel better."

"Yeah, it did feel pretty good," Harry said thinking aloud.

"Well, most of it did."

"Most of it?" Harry asked completely shocked that she could not have enjoyed everything they did together that night.

Hermione, suddenly realizing that she had said something unexpected and insensitive, spoke quickly. "Oh no, Harry," she said putting her hand on top of his. "It's got nothing to do with you. It's just that a woman's first time…you know…well let's just say it isn't the best experience for us."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, suddenly feeling bad that he had not been more considerate. "I wish you would have told me, or something."

"Harry, there's not really anything you could have done to make it any better. But don't worry. The rest of it was nice…quite wonderful actually. There was the kissing, of course, the way I felt just holding you and feeling your body pressed against mine, and there was that one part where you did that thing, that was amazing, Harry. Where on earth did you learn how to do that?"

Harry looked at her slyly, raising one eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question."

"What are you talking abo…oh right. That. Ummm…I…ummm...gosh…"

Hermione's face turned redder than Harry had ever seen it before, and he decided to spare her further embarrassment. "That's alright Hermione," he said chuckling slightly. "You don't need to tell me anything. I'd prefer not to know."

"No, it's alright. It's not like I'd done it before, Harry. I just read about it, and it sounded…interesting."

"You read about it?" Harry asked in disbelief. Hermione liked to read, that was a given, but he would never would have thought her desire for knowledge would extend to something like this.

"My mother likes romance novels, and a couple of summers ago, in the time before I went to the Burrow, I was a little bored, and I picked one of them up." Harry could not tell if Hermione was more embarrassed about her recently-tapped skills in the bedroom or that she had picked it up from one of those trashy romance novels people buy in airports or at newsstands.

"I didn't realize those novels were so detailed about that sort of stuff."

"Oh it wasn't, not really. I got the gist of it from what I read then sort of guessed about the rest."

"That was some pretty good guesswork, I'd say."

"Thanks," Hermione said.

For a moment, an uncomfortable silence set in before Hermione admitted something Harry never thought she would. "You know, Harry, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about doing that with you again."

"I know what you mean," Harry unexpectedly replied. In that instant, the memories of those satisfying moments of passion and lust were quickly moving to the forefront of his thoughts. He gazed over to her. From the look on her face he could tell that it was clearly on her mind as well. Harry could see that they were, once again, moving towards making the same mistake, but he was not going to allow that to happen again. "You know we can't do it again, right?" he said in a sobering tone.

"No, we can't," Hermione responded, sounding almost disappointed.

"It's not that I don't exactly want to. It's just that…

"I know. A night of pleasure isn't worth risking our friendship."

"Exactly. So, I guess the real question now is how to fix things and just be friends again."

"Harry, there really isn't anything that can be done to fix this. We had sex. That is something that will always be between us from now on. The only thing we can do is to figure out how to make this a part of our friendship what we have now and learn to live with it."

"Alright. So, how do we do that?"

"Well, the way I see it, we need time and to do one of two things."

"Which are?"

"One, we can give each other space, not see each other for a while, and maybe, with a little time, we can get through this."

"How much time are we talking about?"

"That's the thing. I'd say at least a year, possibly more. That's why I don't like that idea. I don't think I could spend the next year of my life without you being a part of it Harry."

He agreed with her on that. The prospect of not seeing Hermione for a year of more was slightly unsettling. "Then we go with the second option, which is?"

"Well, we do the opposite. We spend lots of time together, and hopefully, by doing so we will get relaxed enough around each other that sleeping together won't be such a big deal." Harry preferred this option over the first but still saw one glaring problem with it. He was about to mention it when Hermione beat him to the punch. "It's pretty clear that both of us are interested in trying it again. Just minute ago that was what we were both thinking about; at least that's what I was thinking about." Harry nodded in agreement and she continued, "The obvious problem is that by seeing each other so much, we run the risk of giving into our physical desires, but I think if we keep our heads and stay in control, we should be alright." Hermione paused for a moment, letting the idea sink in his head before asking, "So, what do you think?"

Both plans had their bad points. Although she never said it, the first could very well bring an end to their friendship altogether. Friendships tended to do that sort of thing when so much time was spent apart, and Harry wasn't willing to chance that at all.

Of course, the second plan left some questions that Harry couldn't help but ask himself. What would happen if they didn't keep their heads and let themselves lose control? Would they try again or would they just give up let the friendship die away? There were no answers to these questions, at least none that could be given until if and when they actually happened.

Despite these possible problems, Harry felt that the second plan had a decent chance of salvaging their friendship. He was willing to hazard the possible chance ruining everything just to rescue his friendship with Hermione.

"Harry? What do you think?" she asked again.

"I say…it's worth a shot," Harry answered.


	12. The First Two Weeks

**Alright, here it is, finally. As I've already mentioned, I've decided to have a little contest, the details of which will be listed at the end of this chapter. One other thing, a spanner as translated into American parlance is a wrench. Thought you might want to know this.**

* * *

The First Two Weeks

They spent the rest of that night just talking. They discussed Harry's meeting with Mr. Weasley and the ensuing job offer and what kind of training he would have to go through. Hermione thought that it would be very intensive considering that it was being cut down form the normal three years. After a while their conversation shifted more onto memories, and for the first time they had a real heart to heart talk about Ron and Ginny. They told each other what they would both miss the most about not having them around and preferring to remember the happier times they'd had. There was Ron's bottomless pit for a stomach, Ginny's deft use of the Bat Bogey Hex, and a rather lengthy discussion as to who would have one in a duel between the two siblings (made long because they were having fun speculating about the different ways in which Ginny would probably have embarrassed her older brother).

Their conversation had grown so pleasant that it was well after two in the morning before either of them realized how late it had become. Rather than send Hermione back to her parents' house at such a late hour, Harry offered to let her stay the night. She ended up staying for the entire two weeks until her parents returned home.

He thought long and hard about it before finally deciding to ask her to stay. The whole point of her plan was that they spend loads of time together and to get comfortable being friends again. Having her remain with him seemed like the best way to accomplish this. There were risks, to be sure; certain temptations that Harry was sure they would both feel, but the simple fact was that those feelings were going to be there whether she slept at her parents' house or across the hall from him. He had to believe that the more time they spent together, the more time they faced this particular problem, the easier things would become. If it happened that the temptation did get the better of them, well then they just wouldn't have so far to go to give into it.

That was the argument he put forth during breakfast late the next morning. Hermione made a half-hearted attempt to suggest that staying with him might not be a good idea, although he could tell that she wasn't against it either. As a matter of fact, she looked relieved when he asked her, almost as though she was glad not to be the one to bring up the subject. If anything, she was testing his resolve with the suggestion, making sure that he was not doing this out of courtesy but because he really wanted her to stay.

For the first week, they largely kept themselves sequestered in the house, working on finishing the re-decorating job that Harry had already started. They hoped that staying busy with something would allow them to get comfortable being around each other and keep distract them from other matters. The daytimes were spent working on the house, and on those odd evenings when the work was finished early, they usually spent much of the time answering their fan mail. Although not as large as Harry's, Hermione had received a rather substantial stack of letters of her own. Everyone had heard how she stood up to Lord Voldemort, even being so bold as to call him by his real name, and enduring his wrath for such a misdeed. Like Harry's these letters were thanking her for everything she had done, but unlike most of Harry's mail, almost all of Hermione's letters were curious about the kiss to his forehead, wondering if she had really brought Harry Potter back to life.

Harry had had very little desire to answer his fan mail. He could not help but recall that evening he had once spent helping Professor Lockhart answer all of his. Harry had no desire to turn into someone like the ego driven Lockhart and feared that answering this fan mail would only encourage that. It was only after enduring daily admonishments from Hermione, who repeatedly that "all of these people took the time to write" him and that it was "simply good manners" for him to respond did Harry finally relent.

That Monday evening, an owl arrived, carrying a copy of that evening's edition of the _Daily Prophet, _and a note from Mr. Weasley saying that Harry "…might find this interesting." Just as Mr. Weasley had predicted, the _Prophet_ had indeed made mention of Kingsley's announcement at his press conference that morning that Harry was to be joining the Auror Department. In fact, it was printed in two inch emboldened headlines that read "Potter to Join the Aurors."

_**Potter to Join the Aurors**_

_At a press conference this morning, Temporary Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt announced that Harry Potter would be joining the Auror Department. "I am pleased and honored that Mr. Potter will continue serving the public in his new position, and I am confident that he will prove to be a great asset in our continuing struggle against the use of dark magic." Mr. Shacklebolt said._

_Mr. Potter will assume his new position sometime next month, when new auror training procedures will be finalized and put in place. He will be entering an Auror Department that is a shell of its former self, a result of the recent war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which left the corps of elite dark wizard catchers ultimately gutted and currently manned mostly by former aurors temporarily called out of retirement. _

_Mr. Shacklebolt minced no words when asked if he hoped that Mr. Potter's appointment will encourage others to join up with the Department, "Of course we hope that other qualified individuals will be encouraged to follow in Mr. Potter's example, but make no mistake, this was not the reason we offered this position to him. Harry Potter is one of the most courageous, selfless, and honorable men I know. He is the kind or person we need to help set a firm foundation for the Auror Department's future."_

_Mr. Shacklebolt refused to elaborate on what the new Auror Training Program will involve, as procedures are still under development. He only stated that the training will be abbreviated in order to ensure the Department is rebuilt as fast as possible while still maintaining the same high standards that made the Aurors the cream of the crop of Magical Law Enforcement. (article continued on page 4)_

The remainder of the article was largely as Harry had expected it to be. A cursory glance of what the possible political implications of Harry's appointment to the Auror Department followed next. Most thought that it was a very astute political move on Kingsley's part. Even Cornelius Fudge was quoted as saying as much. The real in depth look at the political implications would come in the following day's edition of the _Prophet_, when all of the would-be political pundits had time to digest and analyze the news before putting their thoughts in. For the most part, the remainder of the article was was dedicated to a short and very glowing overview of Harry's list of accomplishments. "As if anyone really needs to be reminded of all that," Harry grumbled after reading them.

The only real negative part of the article had to do with how some of the higher ranking officials at Gringott's expressed their disapproval of Harry's appointment to the Auror Department. They were apparently somewhat disgruntled by the idea that someone who had successfully broken into one of the vaults of their bank and escaped was not only going unpunished for his misdeeds, but was also to be taking a job in law enforcement. To make matters worse, the Ministry had intervened when the goblins attempted to freeze Harry's own account at their bank, something they were less than pleased about. Harry needed to smooth things over with the goblins eventually.

They ventured out only twice that week, once to Hermione's house so that she could pack some clothes and other necessities and where Harry helped her finish unpacking her parents' belongings (a job which took less than an hour because, as usual, Hermione had been exaggerating when she said her parents' house was a mess). Their second trip came the following day when they went to the local home improvement store. It was one of those massive warehouse stores, a veritable labyrinth of aisles and shelves filled with everything a muggle could use to meet any and all of their DIY needs. They mainly went so that Hermione could get her hands on one of those large sample books that contained several dozen swatches of different cloths in all sorts of colors and patterns. Using those swatches, she was able to conjure up all the cloth she would need to make throw pillows, curtains, and bed spreads.

Throughout the week, progress on the house was steady but extremely slow. When he had been doing the work by himself, Harry simply chose a color that he liked and put it on the walls. Hermione, however, took her time matching fabrics and paint colors, putting together several options to choose from for each room. Things were going slow enough that by Sunday Hermione finally broke down and suggested acquiring more magical means to speed things up. So, they started their second week with a trip to Blocke and Kwayall's Store for Magical Home Improvements (est. 1732) in Diagon Alley. Despite its small outward appearance, the store itself was much larger than expected on the inside, undoubtedly expanded through the use of enlargement charms.

Harry found himself once again amazed at the things magic could do. Apart from the expected items, like self-painting brushes and rollers, there was also Bickerton's All-Purpose Every Color Paint which could be changed to whatever color a person might want it to be, even after it was painted on the walls. His attention, however, was mostly drawn by the Vista View Wallpaper, which gave lifelike panoramic views of all sorts of places. He especially liked the Caribbean Beach wallpaper which had white sands, deep blue skies, and clear blue waters with waves that lapped gently back and forth against the shoreline and a palm tree that swayed back and forth in a soft breeze.

Hermione's interest, on the other hand, was grabbed by a series of paints called Weatherall's Works of Art. When put on a wall, this paint would form into a historic masterpiece. There were the usual wizard artists like Liebgott, Winters, and Guarnere, but there was also a wide selection from muggle artists, with the usual magical touches added of course. The _Mona Lisa,_ for example, occasionally winked and even giggled. _Whistler's Mother_, on the other hand, seemed content only to cough or blow her nose every now and then.

Their trip to Blocke and Kwayall's was done early that Monday morning, just after the store had opened for business. Harry felt rather certain, and would probably have been correct, that if a lot of people saw him, then he would be swarmed by whole crowds of them. He just wasn't quite ready to face that yet, just as he had not been ready to face it at Hogwarts so many weeks before. He could not escape it then, but by going early in the morning, the hope was that he and Hermione could avoid any of the larger crowds of people that would be doing their shopping later in the morning, and thus, minimize whatever might come.

Surprisingly, the few people that did notice him that morning were far too stunned that Harry Potter was there and in their presence that they never even approached them. They only whispered quietly to one another "That's Harry Potter," and although neither Harry nor Hermione were aware of it at the time, those people were also quietly wondering who the girl was that was never too far from his side.

This was where the rumors began. They spread slowly at first; only by word of mouth. Seeing Harry Potter shopping at a home improvement store with a girl and both of them obviously discussing decorating a house together led those quiet onlookers to only one inevitable conclusion: Harry had a very serious girlfriend. Perhaps they were even engaged. What other possible reason could a man and a woman possibly have for decorating a house together? By then, most of the wizarding populace knew who Hermione Granger was, but really only by reputation. Outside of her friends and teachers at school, there were not too many people who could actually put her name together with her face.

As it was far too juicy to die away, this rumor gradually picked up speed and quickly became distorted into something it was not, as most often happens with such things as these. By the time it reached the gossip section of the _Daily Prophet, _there were so many different versions of the story that the reporters could not make figure out which was the correct one. One of the more tame accounts had Harry and his, as yet, unknown female companion doing nothing more than holding hands the entire time of their visit to the store. Another claimed that the mystery woman was the drummer from the Weird Sisters (which was quite impossible considering that they were touring in Scandinavia at the time). The raciest of the reports had the couple leaving Blocke and Kwayall's and proceeding to the Leaky Cauldron where they immediately rented a room and stayed there for the remainder of the day and night.

The gossip reporters were fairly certain that Hermione was Harry Potter's unknown female companion. She was known to be one of his closest friends. So, it was reasonable conclusion to reach, but the reporters had no confirmation because not even the _Prophet _had a photograph of her. With so many different versions of the story floating around and no definite certainty that Hermione Granger was Harry's companion, the _Prophet's _Editor-in-Chief made the final decision that nothing would be published.

The editor was brand new, having taken the job only a month before. His greatest concern was the newspaper winning back the trust of the wizarding populace. Starting under Cornelius Fudge, the Ministry had begun putting increasingly greater amounts of pressure on the _Prophet _to publish their versions of events. This manipulation had reached its height when the Death Eaters had been in control of the Ministry and everything else. The new Temporary Minister for Magic had vowed to put a stop to Ministry interference in the running of the _Daily Prophet _altogether, and thus far, he had kept to his word.

The readers, on the other hand, needed to be convinced that things were changing. The _Daily Prophet _had to prove to them that they could be trusted to report the news honestly, objectively, and that it was no longer the propaganda puppet of the Ministry. The readers had slowly begun to believe that things were different with the _Daily Prophet_. Any small amount of trust that had been built would have been ruined if the gossip columns reported that Harry Potter, one of the most beloved members of their society, was having some overnight tryst in the Leaky Cauldron with Hermione Granger, or any other woman for that matter, especially if it could be proven that nothing of the sort was going on at all.

Nevertheless, the story was no where close to being dead. No. The fact that Harry Potter made some sort of public appearance after living in seclusion for nearly a month was big news indeed, and in particular coming so close after the announcement he would be joining the Auror Department. The fact that he was seen with a girl was just an added bonus. Something had to be reported and would be, even if the article had to be one that suggested, without explicitly stating, that Harry Potter might be having some kind of romantic relationship with his friend Hermione Granger. What happened the next day would make the gossip columnists' articles a lot easier to be believed.

Harry and Hermione ended up purchasing several cans of Bickerton's All-Purpose Every-Color Paint, along with a few self-painting self-cleaning brushes and rollers from Blocke and Kwayall's. It was more than enough supplies to finish painting the house. It was also far too much for Hermione to be able to apparate the both of them together, along with every thing they had purchased, all in the same trip. Making a second trip had been the final straw for her. She'd had enough of Harry not being able to apparate on his own, legally. Harry was going to take his apparitions exam the next day and pass it, no matter what.

So, again they left the house the following morning, this time bound for the Ministry of Magic and the Apparitions Test Center contained within. Hermione had come along she would need to apparate them both, and for what she called "moral support", although Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she just wanted to make sure that he really took his exam. Harry really didn't need her with him either for support or to make sure he went through with it. He wasn't worried about this test in the least. He had apparated on his own a countless number of times without as much as a single hair out of place. This would be no different. Even still, it was nice having her along with him.

They chose to go early in the morning again, this time with the hope of finding the crowds they had avoided the day before. The thought was that the throng of Ministry employees would be more concerned about getting to their desks and offices on time and would hardly take notice of them. In an effort to help himself blend in a little further, Harry tried dressing in some of Sirius's old robes. They were kind of robes teenagers wore for more special but not entirely formal occasions that would have required dress robes. They were, therefore, much closer to the business robes that most Ministry workers would be wearing. Certainly, they would be far less conspicuous than a t-shirt, jeans, and trainers.

Unfortunately, the robes turned out to be far more prominent than Harry would have hoped. Apart from being at least twenty years out of style, their bright canary yellow color was hardly subtle. It also did not help that they were a bit too large for him. Kreacher had done his best to make alterations for a better fit, but there was no getting around the fact that these robes were obviously not in Harry's size, making him look rather odd, especially when combined with the brown bowler hat they found in one of the closets. It was only with a serious amount of effort that kept Hermione's smirk from turning into full blown hysterics.

Harry chose not to wear the funny looking suit, surmising that it would make him stand out just as much as, if not more so than his preferred choice of clothing would have. He had come to realize that there really was no point in trying to disguise himself. This wasn't exactly the same thing as their trip to the hardware store, where they were able to get in and out, somewhat quickly, before too many people had a chance to notice. This time they were going to the Ministry. There would be hundreds of people, some of whom they were going to have to interact with. He would have to face the public sooner or later. There was no point in trying to escape it. The only thing Harry could hope for was that too many people wouldn't notice.

They entered through the Ministry's phone booth visitor's entrance, each of them wearing the usual identification badge with their names and reason for being there. As they had hoped, the Ministry was bustling with activity, and everyone was in far too much of a hurry to pay attention to who else was there. Harry and Hermione slipped right into the crowd of people moving through the Atrium. He held her hand tightly in his to keep from being separated. Only the wizard at the Ministry's Security Desk seemed to really pay any attention to the famous visitors, but he said nothing only pausing while looking at the names on their badges and the scar on Harry's forehead.

Once their wands were processed, Harry and Hermione took the stairs one floor down to level six and found the Department for Magical Transportation, which contained the Apparitions Test Center. The Test Center wasn't exactly as Harry had expected it to be. He had pictured a place like one of the muggle Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency's offices, where dozens of people would be standing in a stark government office, waiting in a seemingly never-ending line for their turn to speak with one of several clerks. Instead, the Test Center was much closer to what Harry would have called the waiting room of a doctor's office. It was quiet, well-lit, and to help the test takers relax before their exam, the room was colored in a soothing shade of green.

Sitting in two of the comfortable looking chairs that lined three of the Test Center's walls were a mother and her young daughter. The mother was filling out some kind of paperwork attached to a clipboard while the daughter was quietly perusing a clearly outdated copy of one of the different wizarding magazines had been placed on little tables set between every two or three chairs. Also sitting on each of the tables were small wooden racks which held different brochures. Some read "Tips on Apparating" and others said "Careers in the Ministry of Magic."

The most prominent feature of the waiting room was a rather tall, wood paneled reception desk that was flanked on either side by two doors, one marked "Staff Only" and the other "Testing Rooms". A middle-aged receptionist stood behind the desk. She was slightly plump woman, with graying hair, and half-moon glasses perched on the end of her nose. Mrs. Slocum, as the name plate on her desk read, had a genial smile that was sort of gave her the appearance of a grandmother.

"Good morning," Mrs. Slocum said politely as they approached. "How may I help you?"

"_He_ needs to take his Apparitions Exam," Hermione said gesturing towards Harry and in a slightly chiding tone.

Mrs. Slocum looked over at him. Her eyes immediately locked onto his forehead for a brief second before she looked down at the name badge pinned to his chest, and then quickly back to his face. With eyes bulging, Mrs. Slocum looked back towards Hermione, as if to ask "Is that really him?" but she was stopped, caught off guard when she read the name on Hermione's badge. Mrs. Slocum's gaze shifted between the two of them, realizing that she not only had one famous wizard in her midst, but also a rather famous witch as well. From the look on her face, it seemed as though Mrs. Slocum's eyes were about to pop straight out of her head before she regained her composure. "Er…yes, of course. If you could fill this out, sir." she said handing Harry a clipboard and quill. "Just bring this back to me when you are finished."

Harry took the clipboard and quill and headed towards one of the seats. Hermione sat down beside him and immediately grabbed a brochure from one of the racks and began thumbing through it. He scanned over the form attached to the clipboard. It seemed relatively straight forward; asking for his name, date of birth, whether he had had any kind of apparitions training, and whether he had ever apparated before, and so forth. The next part of the form was actually a very long list of conditions, most having to do with where and when he was and was not allowed to apparate, and so forth. Harry filled out the paper and signed his name at the line on the bottom of the page, and returned everything to a still flush-faced Mrs. Slocum, who was sending off an interdepartmental memo as he approached her desk.

She took the parchment from the clipboard, rolled it up, and sealed it in a sort of capsule similar to but smaller than the kind used a muggle might use at the drive-up window of a bank. Mrs. Slocum grabbed a handle on the side of her desk and pulled it out. The entire cabinet slid out revealing a small cylinder that sat vertically on the inside of the cabinet with an opening at its top that was just about the same size as the capsule held in her hands. She popped capsule into the cylinder, closed the cabinet, and Harry could hear a faint swooshing sound. Presumably, the capsule holding his paperwork was being sent back to the staff office. "There we go. I expect it will be a few minutes before they are ready, sir," Mrs. Slocum said. "If you'd like to have a seat, I'm sure it won't be too long."

Harry nodded and turned to head back towards his seat. It was then that he noticed the little girl staring at him. She was holding her magazine in front of her face hiding most of it. Only her eyes were visible, peering at him from just over the top of the pages. Harry smiled at her and winked. She froze, her face turning white with terror, and her eyes nearly popping out of her head before she quickly hid herself completely behind the magazine.

Harry chuckled silently and sat down next to Hermione, whose attention was focused on one of the thick "Careers in the Ministry of Magic" brochures.

"I think I've got an admirer," Harry said.

"Yes, I know. She's been staring at you since we walked into the Test Center."

"Really? For that long?"

"It wasn't that hard to spot, Harry. Some auror you're going to make if you can't even notice one girl staring at you," Hermione said clearly teasing him.

"Oh come on. That's not fair. People have been staring at me since I was eleven. I hardly notice it anymore."

"Yes, well it's nice to know you've still got the touch though," she said with a giggle.

"Right," he replied, rolling his eyes, wondering if that sort of touch was a good thing or not. "Thinking about going to work for the Ministry, then?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"I don't know. Possibly. I suppose I should start thinking about finding a job of some sort. The problem is I have no idea what I'd be good at. I mean what sort of qualifications do I have?" This caused Harry to snort. "What?" she asked.

"Well, let's see: you were the best student in our year at school, you've faced Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters more than once and survived saving my neck a time or two in the process; not to mention the fact that you are about the cleverest witch I've ever known. I'd say you're qualified to do just about whatever you want to."

"Thank you, Harry, that's very sweet of you to say."

"It's true. You are all of those things, Hermione. Now, if I know you, you've already found something you like. So, let's hear all about it."

"Well, I was sort of thinking about something in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. With all my work with S.P.E.W. and seeing first hand how other magical creatures are treated, I think I could do some real good there."

"So, go for it. I'll bet Mr. Weasley would be happy to help. Remember what he told me: that Kingsley needs people he can trust. You're definitely one of those people. Why could go pay a visit right after my test?"

"No, that's not necessary."

"Why not? He could help you get your foot in the door, put in a good word for you. I'm sure having the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic as a reference would seal the deal."

"Actually, Harry, Mr. Weasley's already offered me a job at the Ministry; an administrative position in a department of my choosing."

"What? When did this happen?"

"Sunday before last, at the Burrow, before you arrived."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"To be honest, I just forgot about it. At the time, I was quite more concerned about seeing you than Mr. Weasley's offer for employment. Then after I'd found you were going to join the Auror Department, I wasn't sure if I should tell you or not."

"Why shouldn't you have told me Hermione?"

"Well, I haven't accepted the job yet. Mr. Weasley told me there was no rush and that I should take some time and think about it, and at the time, I didn't know what was going to happen between us. I decided that if things weren't going to work out, then it might not be a good idea if we both went to work at the Ministry. So, I really didn't think there was that much to tell you."

"That's…just…stupid Hermione," Harry said, laughing slightly. Then he took her hand, a friendly and reassuring gesture. "Things between us are going well. I think we're going to be okay, and even if we weren't, that shouldn't stop you from taking a job here. It wouldn't be fair to you to miss out on a good opportunity because of me. Do you really want the job?"

"Well, yes. I do."

"Then you're going to tell Mr. Weasley that you'll take it. Alright?"

"Alright. And thank you Harry."

"For what?"

"For being so sweet."

Harry was about to say something that he thought was witty and funny, when the "Staff Only" door opened and squat, grey-haired man walked out. He was wearing a yellowish overcoat with "No. 4" embroidered in red letters. The man was also carrying a clipboard and strangely enough, a spanner. If Harry had not known any better, he would have thought this man was an auto mechanic, or perhaps a removals man, anything but a wizard. "Mrs. Brahms?" he said to the mother. "How nice to see you again. Ready to give your Apparitions Test another shot I see."

"Yes, Mr. Arkwright," Mrs. Brahms said as she stood up. "You know what they say, 'fifth time's a charm.' Still, it might be a good idea to have the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad on standby."

"Oh, now Mrs. Brahms, with that sort of thinking, you're never going to pass your exam. You very nearly made it last time; only missed it by a finger…and a toe. I'm certain you'll get it this time. Now, shall we?"

"Yes, yes, alright." Mrs. Brahms then turned to her daughter and said, "Now, Shirley,you wait here quietly and Mummy will be back soon, alright?"

The little girl, who was actually about ten or eleven years old, rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, Mum," sounding more than a little annoyed with her mother for talking at her as though she were a child.

Mrs. Brahms followed the portly test administrator through the testing room doors.

"I wonder why that man was holding a spanner?" Harry asked, thinking aloud.

"I imagine it was really a portkey," Hermione replied, obviously more concerned about what she was reading in her brochure.

"A portkey? Why would they need a portkey?"

"Harry, isn't it obvious? The Ministry is like Hogwarts. No one can apparate into and out of here. I thought you would have figured that out. Are you sure you're right for the auror thing, Harry?"

"Oh shush you," Harry said as Hermione laughed.

At that moment later, two witches entered the office. One of them was roughly the same age as Mrs. Slocum, the other was younger, and both headed straight for the reception desk. It was quite clear after a second or two that all three of these women seemed to be good friends. Each of them periodically glanced in Harry's direction and talked to each other in very low whispers. He tried to look as though he were interested in Hermione's pamphlet while listening in to their conversation, but the three women were speaking in such soft whispers, Harry was only able to make out a few words of their conversation. "…so cute!" he heard the younger woman say. "…wonder…girlfriend?"

"You've got some more admirers, Harry," Hermione said, softly.

"Yeah, I get the feeling they think we're dating."

"Yes, well you have been holding my hand for almost two minutes, so why shouldn't they?" Harry looked at her rather stunned.

"What? Oh sorry," Harry said, realizing that her hand was indeed still clasped within his.

"It's alright. I know it doesn't mean anything like that. Let them think what they will. They're wrong. You and I know it, and that's all that matters."

"If you say so."

Finally, the staff door opened again. Another man walked out. He was not dressed as a removals man as Mr. Arkwright had been, but his clothing was definitely muggle also, albeit somewhat dated. This man wore a dark sports jacket with white piping and dark blue turtleneck, with a "No. 6" stitched in white on the right side of the jacket. He was a youngish looking middle-aged man, but definitely dashing in his appearance, almost like a spy character Harry had once seen on an old muggle television program. Harry finally guessed that since there was a chance they would be apparating in or near muggles it would probably be a good idea to look like a muggle.

The man walked towards Harry purposefully, ignoring the three ladies at the reception desk. "Mr. Potter, I presume," the man said, as he arrived in front of them and seeming entirely unimpressed that he was now standing in front of Harry Potter.

"Yes, that's me," Harry said as he stood in front of the Test Administrator.

"I am Test Administrator Number Six, Mr. Drake. I will be conducting your exam. Now then, if you will follow me."

"Good luck, Harry. I'm sure you'll do fine," Hermione said sounding almost as nervous as Mrs. Brahms had been. "Just remember the 'Three D's. Destination. Deliberation. Determination.'"

"Yes, dear," Harry replied, trying to be humorous in order to quell Hermione's unnecessary anxiety. He really had no idea what she was so nervous about. After all, she had passed her test more than a year before. She had nothing to worry about. It was then that Harry could not help but feel a certain sort of apprehension, mostly brought on by the emotionless face of his Test Administrator. Refreshing as it was to finally meet someone who did not gush with gratitude or fawn all over him, it was a bit unsettling to get no feel of emotion from Mr. Drake whatsoever.

Harry followed Mr. Drake through "Examination Rooms" door and into a long hallway, with several more doors on either side. They went into the door marked "Examination Room 6". The room was small, almost like a closet, except it had no racks for hanging coats or clothes. It was just four walls, a door, and nothing else. After he closed the door, Mr. Drake's expression quickly changed from a solid stone face to something seemed a little friendlier. "Before we begin, Mr. Potter, I just wanted to say that it is an honor to meet you and to be the one conducting your Appartitions Test. You, and Ms. Granger, have done our society a great service. I could not say this out there in the waiting room because, as a Test Administrator, I am required to be impartial at all times. You understand."

"Yes, of course."

"Just between you and me, Mrs. Slocum and her little friends are three of the biggest gossips at the Ministry. They are so efficient, that I would not be at all surprised if they half the Ministry didn't already know that you and Ms. Granger are here. So, if you would not mind keeping what I've said between us, I would appreciate it."

Harry nodded in agreement, and then it was time to begin the test.

They took the portkey, which turned out to be a fountain pen that Mr. Drake had stored in his inside jacket pocket, to a wooded area just outside of a small village on the Welsh coast. From there, the test was relatively straight forward. Mr. Drake gave Harry a target destination, which was a spot just outside the entrance to an abandoned tin mine in Cornwall. Mr. Drake then disapparated away to the target spot first, so as to monitor Harry's arrival. A few moments later, Harry followed, arriving directly on the spot Mr. Drake had told him to. After recalling what happened to Ron during his exam, Harry immediately ran his fingers over his eyebrows, just to make sure they were still intact, and after seeing that no other parts of his body were missing or out of place, Mr. Drake gave Harry a passing grade.

Using the portkey once more they returned to the Test Center, where Hermione, Mrs. Slocum and her two friends, were all waiting with baited breath to hear whether Harry had passed his exam or not. When he told her the news, Hermione nearly leapt on him, which was to be expected. Of course, with Mrs. Slocum saw all of this, and adding in the "Yes dear," comment along with the meaningless hand holding, well that was enough juicy gossip to last the Ministry a few days. Naturally, all of this got back to the _Prophet,_ as well as to every other wizarding publication in the country. What was more, the visitor's name badge confirmed that Hermione Granger was Harry Potter's companion. From there, the news hit the stands that evening, although, neither Harry nor Hermione were aware of this. It was a few days before they would discover what was being reported about them from, of all people, Fred and George, who took a great deal pleasure in teasing the two of them over the ensuing few weeks.

The next couple of days were spent finishing the decorating on Harry's house, which, with their new painting equipment, was done very quickly. Harry had the painting done in a day, and Hermione's added touches took another day or so to finish. When all was said and done, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, looked nothing like its former self.

Only Sirius's old bedroom was left alone to remain as it was. Everything that was in this room was all that Harry had left of godfather. It was his attempt at some sort of memorial, and besides that, Harry was sure that Sirius would have enjoyed the irony that of all the rooms in this house, his bedroom would be the only one in the house to remain as it once was; a final act of rebellion against the Black family.

With the house completed, there was little else to do. So, Hermione suggested that they should spend one day doing a little shopping, pointing out that a t-shirt and jeans were not the appropriate clothing for an auror, which Harry begrudgingly had to agree. Madame Malkin was kind enough to close her shop for over two hours while she fitted Harry with a new wardrobe. Hermione's keen eye for style, it seemed, also extended into apparel, as she worked with Madame Malkin to pick out some very sharp looking suits. Shopping for new clothes was actually more fun than Harry thought it would be. Apart from his dress and school robes, this was the first time that Harry actually had brand new clothes that were all his own and not his cousin's old hand-me-downs.

Paying for his new wardrobe had also meant having to make a preceding visit to Gringott's, during which, both of them decided that they should take the opportunity to reassure the goblins who ran the wizards' bank that breaking into the Lestranges' vault was for a noble purpose. It took a rather lengthy meeting to explain their actions and having to swear an oath in blood that neither of them would never attempt to gain unauthorized access to someone else's vault ever again to set the goblins' minds at ease, but it was worth it.

Their trip also included a stop at Ollivander's recently re-opened shop so that Hermione could obtain a new wand. She had always had a distinct distaste for the wand taken from Bellatrix Lestrange, feeling that it was decidedly unfriendly. Most of that was because she herself had not won the wand's loyalty because of which it had never worked as well as her old wand had. They spent almost an hour in the shop, Ollivander asking Harry various questions about possessing the famed Death Stick Wand all the while pulling out different wands for Hermione to try. It was fourteen inch willow wand with a dragon heartstring core that finally chose Hermione, which Mr. Ollivander gave to her as a token of his appreciation for rescuing him from Malfoy Manor.

A few days later, the first two weeks of Hermione's plan was brought to an end. Her parents returned from Australia, and she returned to their home to spend time with them. The pair still spent a lot of time together, to be sure. Hermione came over to Harry's house several times, mostly to help him work out several new defensive spells that he should have learned during his seventh year and working on perfecting Harry's nonverbal spell casting, which had always been lackluster at best. They even tried to practice dueling once, but after several deflected spells destroyed various objects around the room, they quickly aborted the dueling.

Those two weeks together had done a lot to ensure that their friendship would survive. Most people would probably have said that, in the end, Hermione's plan of spending time together was a complete failure because of where their relationship would ultimately end up, but as he would look back those weeks in the years to come, Harry preferred to think that the quite the opposite was true. Her plan had been a great success. Had it not been, their friendship would have ended, he would never have fallen in love with her, and he would not have begun to notice certain things about the young Ms. Hermione Granger.

It was during those first two weeks, Harry could not help but observe the pleasing way her waist curved so beautifully into her hips; the way her breasts pressed against her shirt when she was straining to reach for something above her head; and the pleasingly round shape of her posterior, particularly whenever she bent over to pick an object up off the floor. In short, for the first time Harry was noticing that Hermione was a woman.

He had always known that she was a female, of course, but to him she had always just been his friend. Her gender had never really come into before. Even that night when they had sex he had been far more engrossed in the pleasure of it all to pay attention to the beauty of her more physical attributes. Now, however, sleeping with her had changed the way he saw her. It was painfully clear to him that Hermione was, indeed, a fully grown and not unattractive woman, with all of those lovely curves and mounds that attractive women tended to have.

As they were working on his house, Harry would catch himself looking at her, locking his eyes would to all those parts of her body that he found pleasing to look at. He especially liked it when she wore jeans because of the way they accentuated her figure. Then his thoughts would turn to fantasy, where he hoped that by some miracle Hermione would decide that it was simply far too hot to be working in all of her clothes and decide to discard them right then and there in favor of laboring in nothing but her underwear, or perhaps even less than that.

When reality inevitably set in, Harry would quickly push those thoughts out of his mind. It made him angry to even be considering such things. Over the coming days, he managed to gain better control over himself, managing to keep himself from looking at Hermione in that way or letting his thoughts stray on fantasies that could not and should not ever be. Every now and again, however, Harry would forget himself and let his eyes stray and his mind wander towards Hermione's naughty bits and what it would be like to see them again. This was a problem that would forever persist, occasionally popping up every so often. Most of the time, he was able to quickly regain his composure and push all of that away and go about his business as though nothing had happened…that is until one day, those thoughts simply would not go away and his fantasy became reality.

* * *

**Okay, now it's time for the contest. It's really quite simple: I have added five new, minor characters into this chapter. They are: Mrs. Slocum, Mrs. Brahms, her daughter Shirley, Mr. Drake, and Mr. Arkwright. The names for each of these characters were borrowed from characters that appeared on four old British television programs. All you have to do is figure out which characters were from which shows, then send them (Character Name and Television Show) to me in a PRIVATE MESSAGE. DO NOT put your answers in a review to this chapter as I will not accept them in this form. The first three people who reply with the correct answers will be given a sneak peak of my next chapter a couple of days before I publish it.**

**Of course, to point you in the right direction, I'm going to give you a few hints:**

**Mr. Arkwright, well this one's pretty straightforward. So, sorry, no hints here. **

**Mrs. Slocum, Mrs. Brahms, and her daughter Shirley are all derived from characters from the same show. In fact, Mrs. Brahms and Shirley both come from the same character (her first and last name). **

**Mr. Drake - well this one's a bit difficult. Depending on who you ask, Mr. Drake was the same character on two different shows. They were certainly played by the same actor, and both were very similar in other respects. The problem is, in one show, Drake was this character's last name, and in the other show, he didn't exactly have a name. However, I have included what his character was called in the text, as well as some other clues. Shouldn't be too hard to figure out. - For this one, you will need to include both of the characters and both of the shows in your answer.**

**Any questions, just ask.**

**CD Bailes**


	13. Auror Training and Some Other Stuff

**First off, thanks to everyone who responded to my little contest. By now the winners know who they are, so congrats to you all. The answers to my questions are as follows: Mr. Arkwright was from the show "Open All Hours" and was played by Ronnie Barker. Mrs. Slocum (or Slocumbe as is actually correct) was a character on the show "Are You Being Served?" and was played by Molly Sugden. Mrs. Brahms and her daughter Shirley, were names derived from the character Shirley Brahms (or Miss Brahms), also from "Are You Being Served?" and this character was played by Wendy Richard. Finally, the tough one: Mr. Drake. Mr. Drake was named for John Drake from the show "Danger Man" and was played by Patrick McGoohan. Depending upon who you ask, John Drake was also the real name of the character called Number Six on the show "The Prisoner", which also starred McGoohan and came after "Danger Man" went off the air. I have referred back to more outside sources for this chapter as well, but sorry, no contest this time. You will find another reference to "Are You Being Served?", as well as Hamlet and "Monty Python's Flying Circus". Oh, and as always, I do not own Harry Potter. Enjoy.**

**Auror Training…and Some Other Stuff**

Harry began his auror training scarcely a few weeks before his eighteenth birthday. The first two weeks were hardly what he expected it would be. They were actually quite boring and much more akin to be being back at school. Before he was allowed to do anything else, he was required to pass the Ministry's standard Civil Service exam. All new Ministry employees, save the maintenance, secretarial, and other support staffs, were required to pass the exam before they could begin their jobs. As most government examinations tend to be, the Civil Service Exam was fairly easy, much easier than most of the tests Harry had taken even in his first year at Hogwarts. It covered things like the organization of the Ministry, relations with other wizarding governments in other countries, the function of its different offices, and the duties of various officials as well as a plethora of boring statistics. Harry scored pretty well on the exam, not the highest score ever, but more than adequate to pass the exam. After that, Harry's real training began.

Three years of training was condensed down into one, the bare essentials only. Dueling, Disguise and Concealment, Stealth and Tracking, and Auror Procedures were the only formal instruction that Harry would receive over the next year. The rest of it he would receive on the job, learning it all from a mentor. As he had already known, Professor Flitwick was the Dueling Master for this portion of the training. Since it was deemed "most important" in the _Auror Training Manuel, Revised Edition,_ dueling was the only class Harry would take each and every day. Harry found Flitwick to be an incredible dueler, well-deserving of his Championship titles. Learning the art of dueling from him was a rewarding, if not painful experience. Professor Flitwick was not holding back, and for the first month, Harry had a consistently bruised posterior, not to mention ego, from landing on his backside so many times at the hands of his tiny instructor. But Harry learned quickly. He was soon able to adapt to different attacks, and how to improvise new ones of his own. He learned how to recognize an opening in his opponent's defenses, how to find their weaknesses, and most importantly, how to minimize or get rid of his own. By the end of his dueling training, Harry could more than hold his own against Professor Flitwick.

Disguise and Concealment training were held for two hours on Mondays and Wednesdays. The protective enchantments he, Ron, and Hermione had used for all those months to protect their different hiding places gave Harry a leg up in this part of the training. His invisibility cloak also came in quite handy but was not without its problems. As he already knew, the cloak could be cumbersome and restricting of movement. So, Harry learned to develop an excellent disillusionment charm, which made him almost completely invisible, so much so, that only if someone were paying very close attention there was an off chance that they might be able to notice him, providing he made some sort of sudden movement.

In addition to the Disillusionment Charm, Harry learned various physical transfiguration spells, just like the ones Hermione had done to Ron before their break in at Gringott's. His lightning shaped scar, however, tended to be a bit of a problem. Because of the cursed nature of the old wound it could never be fully hidden by those spells, and in some cases, it was made even more pronounced. The best Harry was able to do was lengthen his hair to cover it up. For this reason, Harry preferred to use the polyjuice potion, the brewing of which was another one of the skills that Harry procured during his training. Over time, Harry would begin to keep an ample supply of the potion along with hairs from a wide variety of different people that would enable him to transform himself into different men, women, children, or any one of the four members of a famous muggle rock band from Ireland that Hermione was quite fond of.

Two hours on Tuesdays and were dedicated to Stealth and Tracking training. On the stealth end of things, Harry's invisibility cloak again got some good use, and later on, as he became more and more proficient with it, so did his use of the disillusionment charm. He also learned a spell that could silence his footsteps, enabling him to follow someone in near silence even if he were stepping onto twigs and dried leaves. On the tracking side of things, Harry learned how to do spells that could detect when magic was being used to conceal something or someone, and a marvelous little tracking spell that could find any person who was marked with the spell for up to twenty four hours. The only real trick to it was actually hitting someone with the spell.

The last of his classes was Auror Procedures, held for two hours every Friday. This class was as it sounded, all about procedures of the auror department, which included proper investigation procedures, collecting and storing evidence, arrest procedures, interrogation procedures and conduct, and finally documentation procedures, which was really a technical way of saying paperwork.

Harry's training classes took place in the mornings. After that, he would have a quick lunch and shower, before embarking on the second part of his training, the on-the-job part. From the start, Harry was placed with a veteran auror who would be a sort of mentor to him. The purpose of this mentor was not only to teach Harry about things like investigation, interrogation, and seizure techniques, but to guide him and impart knowledge about being an auror that could never be gained in a classroom or from a manual.

Harry's mentor was Humphrey Wilberforce, or simply Willy to most everyone in the office. Willy was hardly the kind of person that anyone would have expected to be an auror to be. He was just over five and half feet tall, skinny, with a thin build, short white-blonde hair, and a prominent gap between his front two teeth. He also was always impeccably dressed and very well groomed, even quite dapper in his behavior. As it was with Professor Flitwick, when it came to Humphries, looks were also very deceiving. He was extremely intelligent and talented auror, skills which enabled the muggle-born auror to escape the clutches of the Death Eaters.

The only other aspect of his training for that immense amount of studying he had to do. Harry would never have gotten through any of it had it not been for Hermione. Whether it was helping him to work out a particularly difficult spell, serving as his practice guinea pig, or quizzing him for his exams, throughout all of his training, Hermione was always there to help him whenever he needed it. By the end of his formal training, Harry reckoned that Hermione had learned enough about being an auror that she could have gone right into service with him. The truth was, for that first year, it seemed to be that the only times Harry ever got to spend any time with Hermione was when she was helping him with his studies. His training and work schedule was so grueling that he rarely ever had any real free time. Later on, when Hermione started working at the Ministry, they would share a table at lunch every now and again, but outside of this and the sporadic Sunday dinners at the Burrow, studying together was about it.

Harry's only real break during this time was at Christmas, when the Ministry was closed for two weeks. Harry still had to put in a couple of days on the break because the Auror Office, along with the rest of the magical law enforcement departments, could never be fully closed. Christmas that year was celebrated at his house, making it the first time he had ever hosted anyone for any kind of social event. Ever since they had finished the house, Hermione had been pestering him to have some sort of house warming type of thing just to show off all that they had done. So, Harry finally relented and agreed to have everyone over for Christmas. It was a compromise decision, really. The Weasley's had expected him to come to the Burrow, something which Harry was not quite sure he was entirely ready for. There was now this kind of empty feeling whenever he was there which he felt would only be compounded by this particular holiday. Hermione, in turn, seemed quite set on Harry spending the holiday with her and her parents. Then, Andromeda Tonks had also dropped Harry an invitation to spend the holiday with her and little Teddy. So, the decision to have everyone over to Number Twelve seemed like the best way to make every one happy, or at least as happy as they could be. Even Willy, who, as a bachelor, had no real plans for the day, consented to attend.

All in all, it wasn't a bad day at all; a little down-beat and slightly depressed, which was to be expected, but not nearly so bad as anyone had it expected it to be. By and large, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

Hermione took to the role of hostess for the day. From the get go, she was in charge of the dinner, selecting the menu, making the place settings, coordinating the seating arrangements, giving everyone tours of the house, and above all making sure that everything went off without a hitch. Harry gladly let her take charge of everything figuring that she would be able to do a better job than he ever could and resigned himself to just doing whatever she told him to. More than once that day, he mistakenly dropped a sarcastic "Yes, dear," response a number of times to her various different orders and requests, which briefly reignited Fred and George's little jabs at their supposed romance. Mr. Weasley eventually took the twins aside for a moment. Harry was not sure what he said to his sons, but after that, all of the jokes stopped completely.

The twins took on the enormous task of keeping their mother out of the kitchen. Since Kreacher had insisted on preparing the entire dinner himself as a gift to his master, there was no reason for Mrs. Weasley to do anything at all except relax and enjoy herself. When she did finally give up on having anything to do with preparing the dinner, Mrs. Weasley ended up spending most of her time talking with Mrs. Tonks and holding little Teddy, that is when Harry wasn't helping him ride the toy broomstick he had gotten him for Christmas. Mr. Weasley peppered Mr. and Mrs. Granger with all sorts of questions on muggle life. At the same time, Mr. Granger seemed quite interested in talking to Willy about what it was like to be an auror. Apparently, Mr. Granger, who had a cousin in the muggle MI5, had a certain fascination with elite forms of law enforcement.

As for Fleur, well her pregnancy was progressing rather slowly. She had only just begun showing a few weeks before. This long length of time was actually quite expected. Pregnancies for normal, full-blooded veela usually lasted just over a year. So everyone knew Fleur's pregnancy would last longer than a normal human's would, but being that she was only half veela, no one was quite sure exactly how long it would be. The best guess any healer could give her was somewhere around ten to eleven months, which would put the birth somewhere around the following April or May.

When the holidays ended, Harry returned to his training, the formal part of which was brought to an end the following summer. Later on, he took an extension course in hand-to-hand combat because even in the magical world, the need to be able to fight without magic popped up from time to time. He was not deluded enough to believe that he knew everything. The rest of would come with time, especially with Willy's well-thought guidance. One little tidbit of advice that Harry's mentor passed onto him was that all people, wizards and muggles alike, are generally creatures of habit. They stick to what they know and are used to.

Almost from the moment Harry started at the Auror Department, he was thrust onto the Flying Squad, the unofficial name of the task force assigned to capturing ten fugitive Death Eaters who had remained on the run up to that point. Some of the more veteran aurors seemed a little grumpy about Harry's appointment to the Flying Squad, especially the ones who had been left off the squad in order to make room for Auror Trainee. Harry had to admit that on some level, they had every right to be slightly miffed. He had just started his training for heaven's sake. How could he hope to help capture ten Death Eaters? Even still, there was not much he or anyone else could do. The order for Harry's appointment to the Flying Squad had come from the Minister himself, and as Willy tried to point out, since there were no other dark witches or wizards trying to make any trouble at that moment, it would be the best training Harry could receive.

If anything, the best lesson Harry took out of those first couple of years on the Flying Squad was how not to lead. The auror put in charge of the Flying Squad was T.W. Mangrove. Mangrove, often called "Luxury Yacht" behind his back because he always seemed more interested in talking about sailing than the work at hand, had been one the aurors who had dutifully come out of retirement to help put the Department back on its feet and was put in charge of the Flying Squad because he was the most senior auror. He wasn't a bad auror, at least as far Harry could tell, just one that was inadequate for the task he had been given. Mangrove was disorganized and not very decisive. He never developed any kind of real strategy for capturing the Death Eaters, and seemed to prefer asking other Squad member's their opinion about what to do next, usually electing to choose the suggestion which involved the least amount of work. He would have been replaced earlier because of his ineffective leadership, but at that time there were few options for someone else to take charge.

It was also quite clear to Harry from the beginning that Mangrove only tolerated his presence on the team simply because there was no choice in the matter. He never once deferred to Harry for any suggestions or ideas. This actually suited Harry just fine. Instead of trying to force his ideas onto the rest of them, he took Willy's advice and sat back, listened, and learned all he could.

Under Mangrove's leadership, the better part of a year had passed before the Squad captured its first Death Eater, and that was only by sheer luck. One of the Flying Squad members happened to be visiting a relative in a small muggle village when, by happen-stance, spotted the Death Eater. He followed the Death Eater to a small cottage just outside of the village. Then summoning the rest of the Flying Squad, the cottage was raided and the Death Eater taken into custody. It was more than a year before the Flying Squad managed to get their hands on a second Death Eater, all thanks to Harry.

Harry had remembered what Willy had told him about people being creatures of habit. That got Harry to thinking about what sorts of habits the fugitive Death Eaters might have. He poured over all of the files about the fugitives over and over. These files contained every piece of information known about each of the Death Eaters; their dates of birth, parents, siblings, known hideouts and aliases, places they had lived, preferred choices for hexes and curses, and even personal habits. After searching for several hours, Harry found a clue that he thought he could use, and that clue was noodles.

There was One Death Eater who had a taste for dishes made with Chinese noodles. He was from small wizarding community within the city of Bath, and his childhood home, still occupied by his mother, was less than a block away from a Chinese take-away restaurant that had been in business for as long as anyone could remember. Of course, the house had already been searched and his mother interviewed, all to no avail. Not that this really meant anything as mothers tend not to be too inclined to give up their children to a long prison sentence no matter how bad of a person they might be. For whatever reason, no one thought it necessary to keep tabs on the mother or to even make occasional follow up interviews or searches of the home to see if the Death Eater might have return.

Harry had to admit that it wasn't much a lead but without anything else to go on, he had nothing to lose. So, he took his idea to Willy, knowing that Mangrove would be more accepting of the idea if it came from the more senior auror. Willy agreed with Harry that it wasn't much of a lead, but also said that it could not hurt to take a look. He mentioned the idea at the Flying Squad's daily meeting. Willy kept it vague just saying, "Young Harry found something that's a little interesting. It's not really much, but I think it's worth checking out, and it will give the lad a good training experience in any case." Mangrove asked no questions and just grunted his agreement.

Harry and Willy visited the Death Eater's childhood home again, questioned his mother once more, and did a cursory look around the house, mainly just looking at what was in plain sight on the ground floor. Neither of them made mention of it but both saw several empty boxes and take home tins from the Chinese take-away around the corner, many of which contained remnants of some kind of noodle or other. There were dozens of such containers lying all about the house, far too many for just one person to go through. Harry immediately performed the Homenum Revelio charm and discovered that another person was present in the house, hiding in one of the upstairs rooms. The two aurors rushed upstairs and found the Death Eater huddled in secret space behind one of the walls bedrooms. He put up a brief struggle, but a well-aimed stunning spell from Harry's wand dropped him quickly.

Initially, Harry and Willy's success at capturing was not looked upon as anything special. Mangrove considered it more of a happenstance of sheer luck than anything and refused to consider that Harry's tactic of finding the Death Eaters by targeting their habits had anything to do with his capture. More than likely, Mangrove was angry about being outshined by a rookie auror. So, the Flying Squad returned to its old, lethargic search for fugitives, although Harry was now much more accepted member of the task force. A few of its members even began asking him for suggestions on how the Squad should proceed from.

The Flying Squad's improvements did not improve any for the next three months. That is until Kingsley Shacklebolt became fed up with its performance. Shortly after his Harry's second anniversary as an auror, the Minister summarily dismissed the head of the Department and named Willy as his successor. As the new head of the Auror Department, Wilberforce Humphries immediately, and quietly, forced Mangrove back into retirement and named Harry as the new head of the Flying Squad.

Harry took to his new position with gusto. He reorganized the squad into teams, assigning each of them different Death Eaters to catch and ordering the teams to go over all of the files again to look for anything that might stand out. He also encouraged them to begin questioning former Death Eaters who were now serving time in Azkaban for their crimes on they hopes that they might be willing to turn on their former comrades in exchange for consideration with privileges or sentence reductions. Within the first month of Harry's tenure as head of the Flying Squad, they captured the third Death Eater, and the fourth would follow less than two months later.

After his formal training was completed, one of the nice little discoveries that Harry made was that he had more free time which actually afforded him a bit of a social life. As he usually worked most of his nights past the Ministry's closing time, so it wasn't much of a social life, but the important thing was that he started to have most of his weekends free. He was able to spend time with friends, start attending Sunday dinners at the Burrow more regularly, and he was able to start dating again.

Harry dated three women after he finished his training. The first two were ones that Hermione set him up with, friends from her department that she thought he might get on well with. They were attractive women with generally interesting personalities, but really not what he was looking for. He never made it past a second date with either of them.

He had slightly better luck with the third woman, Ophelia. She happened to be the reserve seeker for the Holyhead Harpies, so there was an instant connection between them. They met at a World Cup Test Match between England and Spain, where they happened to be seated next to one another. They struck up a rather pleasant conversation. Harry figured "Why not?" and asked her out. It went well with Ophelia, at first. They went out a few times, enjoyed each other's company, and did a small amount of snogging, but after a month or so, Harry began to realize that it wasn't going to work out between the two of them and called it quits. Like the other two women, there was something about Ophelia that was missing, something that he could never fully put his finger on. In the end, with a certain amount of convincing from Hermione, Harry concluded that he simply wasn't ready to start dating again, at least until he could figure out what he wanted. What Harry wanted had always right there in front of him.

Steadily, he and Hermione had begun spending more and more time together, doing things that friends would do. It started with a dinner here and there or a movie every once and a while. That advanced to taking ballroom dancing class (not Harry's idea) and weekend sight-seeing trips together. The more time they spent together, the closer it seemed they were becoming to each other. The resting of a head on the other's shoulder, many long conversations that went late into the night and often ended with Hermione staying the night, all of these were signs that either of them should have seen but chose to ignore.

Before he knew it, two years had passed and it was Christmas time again and that meant the Third Annual Minister's Christmas Benefit Gala. The first Gala was held to raise money to benefit displaced victims of the Death Eater War and was meant to be a one-time sort of thing. It ended up being so successful that the Minister decided to make it an annual event that would raise money for a different cause each year. Harry purchased a ticket for the event but managed to get out of going sighting his need to concentrate on his training. For the second Gala, he again purchased a ticket but came up with a reasonably good excuse to skive off that one as well. He had planned to do the same for the third one, which was expected to be the black tie event of the year and was, therefore, something he automatically wanted to avoid. However, when Kingsley Shacklebolt dropped him two tickets along with a note requesting that he represent the Auror Department at the Gala, Harry was pretty much stuck with having to go. Fortunately, Fred and George were going to be there, and they could always be counted on to liven up a party. Hermione, who had also gotten the same sort of invitation from the Minister as Harry, would also be there. So, the evening did not look to be a complete and utter bore.

The Gala was held in the Ministry's Atrium on the Saturday night before Christmas. That year, the proceeds were going towards the children's ward at St. Mungo's. Not terribly concerned about finding a date for the party, Harry went by himself. He even managed to purchase new dress robes without Hermione's assistance. His old bottle green set of robes, unfortunately, had not faired so well being stuff in Hermione's little beaded purse for the better part of a year. Sticking with what he was familiar with, Harry again went with green, only this time they were a much darker shade of green and trimmed in a deep red.

Harry entered the Atrium completely amazed by its transformation. When he had left work the day before, the atrium looked just it normally did. In just a day it had been transformed for the gala. Several hundred feet of garland and mistletoe lined the walls surrounding the atrium. More than a dozen round dining tables, each with decorated with elaborate, never melting ice sculpture centerpieces. The tables bordered three sides a large wooden dance floor. Immediately behind the dance floor was a twenty piece orchestra, and behind them was the largest Christmas tree Harry had ever seen. It easily outsized the ones Hagrid dragged into Hogwarts Castle for Christmas. The tree was decked out in the usual bobbles and ornaments and over a thousand real live fairies provided the twinkling lights. The atrium's fountain had been completely frozen over. Even its spewing jets of water had been frozen mid-spray forming into solid streams of ice. On one side of the room were a series of long tables set end to end. The tables held a series of different displays and items for the usual silent auction. Everything from tickets to the finals of next year's European Quidditch Cup Finals to a custom made fireworks display from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes were up for bidding. A bar was set up on the opposing side of the atrium, and the wait staff, all dressed in crisp and brilliant white top coats and pinnies, were flittering about the room, filling water glasses and making sure each table was set exactly so.

Harry's plan for that night was simple. He arrived early to keep from being forced to make a big entrance. After that he would shake a few hands and perhaps bid on an item or two in the silent auction. Then he would enjoy a nice meal and make a quiet exit shortly thereafter. Above all, he wanted to avoid the press as much as possible.

Plans, as they often do, have a way of going awry. Harry had been at the Minister's Gala barely ten minutes when his started to go wrong. He was perusing the various items for sale at the auction and was just about to fix a rather generous bid to the quidditch tickets when he heard a familiar and annoying voice say, "Well, Harry Potter as I live and breath." He turned to see Rita Skeeter standing just a few feet away from him with her pad out and Quick-Quotes-Quill poised and ready for action. "So wonderful to see you again."

"Ah, Rita, I wish I could say the same," Harry replied.

As she was quite accustomed to such insults being thrown at her, Rita did not even bat an eyelash. "So, Harry, when are we going to have that interview? Everyone's simply dying for you to be the subject of my next book about you, and let's face it you won't be this famous forever. We should strike now, while the iron is still hot. I promise, no Quick-Quotes-Quill," she said in her sweet, innocent voice that Harry was not buying for a second.

"I thought you preferred the subjects of your books to be deceased before you wrote about them, Rita. All the better so they can't defend themselves."

"Now, Harry, everything I wrote about your beloved Dumbledore was true."

"Yes, Rita, it was, and I'll admit that. I also can say that I can forgive him for it, as should we all, because he became a great man who did great things, and if he'd been alive when your book was published, he would have been the first to tell everyone that it was all true. You know what else: Dumbledore never would have tried to defend his actions, made excuses for what he had done, or even bothered to point out that he had dedicated his life for making up for those mistakes, something, I might add, he never once believed he ever accomplished. Now, if you will excuse me, I was about to make a bid on these quidditch tickets. Oh, and if you think about writing anything rather nasty about our discussion tonight, just remember that I know about your little secret. You might have had an agreement with Hermione, but you never had anything with me."

Rita laughed at that statement. "Don't worry about that Harry. Right now, I don't think anything I could write about you would do any damage, but just remember: there was a time when you weren't quite so loved by everyone. You needed me to help then, and there may come a time when you might need it again. I won't be able to that, if I'm in prison."

"If and when that happens, Rita, and as long as you can keep that poison quill of yours at home, I'll send you an owl. Until then, enjoy the party." Harry returned his attention back to the quidditch tickets, ending their conversation.

He angrily scribbled down a two hundred galleon bid for the tickets, and instantly wished he had not bid so much. However, after a few moments thought he decided that it would not last very long. The European Cup was one of the hottest quidditch events of the year, one that could command up to a thousand galleons a ticket and there were going to be some fairly wealthy witches and wizards at this shindig who would have no problem dropping large amounts of money for quidditch tickets. Besides, if he really wanted to go, he could probably finagle a couple of tickets through the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

With his bid in place, he headed to the bar and ordered a butter beer, which the bar tender quickly retrieved. "Harry," a familiar voice said a few moments later. He turned to see Fred Weasley.

"Fred. Good to see you."

"Barkeep, butter beer if you'd be so kind," Fred said as he sat down next to Harry at the bar. "Better beware, Harry, Rita Skeeter's here and she's on the prowl."

"Yeah, I know. She's already tried to get an interview out of me. Told her off about what she wrote about Dumbledore."

"Good show, Harry." Fred took a sip of his drink before speaking again. "So, no date tonight? I thought for sure you'd be here with Hermione."

"What, and give you and George some more ammunition. I don't think so," Harry said trying to be humorous.

"Sorry Harry. You know, George and I still feel pretty bad about all of that," Fred said glumly. "If we'd have known about you and Ginny, we'd have never cracked any of those jokes about you and Hermione."

"Yeah, well it serves you right; the both of you."

"Too right it does," Fred answered back before taking a long pull from his butter beer. "So, how _are_ things on things with you on the romance front?"

"Non-existent," Harry soberly replied.

"Really. I thought you and what's her name, Ophelia was it?" Harry nodded. "I thought you two were got on alright."

"We did. She was smart, funny, obviously loved quidditch…"

"Sounds like the perfect woman to me."

"Yeah, well, there's more to it than that."

"There always is."

"Ophelia just wasn't the kind of woman that I wanted, I guess. Hermione thinks all of this is in my head; that I'm not ready to be out there dating yet."

"What do you think?"

"That she's probably right. I mean, she usually is." Harry paused a moment to take drink from his own beverage before changing the subject. "So, where's George tonight. I thought for sure he'd be here."

"Oh, he's on his way. At least I think he's on his way. Lately, he's been preoccupied with other matters," Fred responded with a knowing grin.

"Angelina's taking up most of his free time I take it."

"Yeah. She's got him wrapped up like a Christmas present. Oh, by the by, you're invited to the stag night festivities."

"So, they finally set a date then?"

"Not as such, but I've been planning this night since they announced their engagement. All I need to know is the date of the nuptials, and then I can put my plan into effect."

"Sounds like you've got something big in the works."

"You know me. It wouldn't be a proper stag night if I didn't do something spectacular for George."

"And what, might I ask, do you have planned?"  
"Ahh, well I'd like to tell you, Harry, but…"

"…then you'd have to kill me, or something like that."

"Precisely my good man. Like all of the great things the Weasley twins do, this too must remain top secret until such a time as it is ready to be revealed. All I will say is that it will be a night to remember."

"Until we have your stag night, that is. Speaking of that, how are things with that girl from the print shop?"

"Oh, Edwina. Things are coming along nicely with her," Fred said with a satisfied smile. "Couldn't bring her with me tonight of course."

"I take it that you still haven't told her you're a wizard yet."

"No. I don't think we're quite there yet. Mum likes her, though. She even bought me a book: _So, Your In Love With a Muggle: A Wizard's Guide to Dating Women From Non-Magical Families,_ by J. Liman Stone_._ She even marked the chapter on marrying a Muggle."

"That's a strong message there."

"You're telling me. Just because Bill's done it and George is ready to take the plunge, Mum thinks I should be doing the same. She's the same way with Charlie, but he's living in Romania and only has to deal with her when he comes home for a visit…lucky bastard. So, I get to bear the brunt of it."

"What about Percy? Surely she must be giving him a hard time too?"

"Not really. Percy's the 'Prodigal Son'. Even after all this time, Mum's so happy that he's back with the family that she's not going ruin that by prodding him on to get married. Not yet anyways. I reckon he's got another year, if he's lucky, before she's on to him, and mark my words, Harry, you'll be in her sights soon enough."

"Hmph," Harry said. Fred was right, he knew that. At some point in the not too distant future, it seemed very likely that Molly would begin suggesting to him that it might be time to meet a girl, get married, and start a family. "How much time do you think I have?" he asked, hoping that Fred could give him some idea as to when she might Molly might begin mentioning Harry's romantic life.

"That's tough to say. Mum took the news about you and Ginny better than I would have if I'd have been in her place. Course, it helped that Fleur gave birth to Victoire on the same day. That made the day a lot happier for everyone, but you know, learning how you'd felt about Ginny, well, it still upset her. I think most of it was because she would have loved it if you'd been able to marry Ginny. You would really have been part of the family; not that you aren't now, mind you, but more officially, so to speak. Mum needs a bit of time getting past that little part, is all, and when she does, watch out."

"Thanks for the warning," Harry said.

"Speaking of Hermione; just to be clear, there really is nothing between you and her, right?"

"No," Harry answered, rather annoyed by having to answer this question yet again.

"Good. Then it won't bother you that she's brought a date tonight."

"What?"

"Over there," Fred said, gesturing towards the atrium's entrance. "They've just arrived."

Harry turned to find Hermione entering arm and arm with, of all people, Justin Finch-Fletchley. The fact that she had brought a date to the Gala was not the first thing that Harry noticed, however. His attention was firmly fixed on Hermione, unable to take his eyes away from her. It was almost like the night of the Yule Ball, when Hermione shocked everyone in the school, not only because she was accompanied by Viktor Krum, but also because she had been so unexpectedly beautiful. Just as it was on the night of the Yule Ball, Hermione was absolutely gorgeous on this night as well, but there was something far different about her that was not present on that other night during their fourth year of school. On this night, Hermione was also, for lack of a better word, sexy.

Unlike the fifteen year old girl, who was so obviously anxious on the night of Yule Ball, Hermione had an air of confidence about her tonight. She was smiling, open, and outgoing. The differences did not end with just her demeanor. From the look of things, she had brought out her bottle of Professor Sleekeasy's Hair Tonic and used it to tame her wild, bushy hair into soft, graceful curls that were pulled up to reveal the full length of her smooth neck.

But what Harry noticed more than anything else was Hermione's dress robes. They were so…un-Hermione-like and far different than the powder-blue ones she had worn at the Yule Ball. They were a made of deep red colored silk, and most notably, were strapless, allowing Harry to see the creamy white skin of her bare shoulders and top portion of her chest. The robes started just off her shoulders and ran all the way to the floor and were quite form-fitting; delicately hugging all of those very nice curves and accentuating all of those parts on Hermione's body that Harry had become quite fond of looking at.

That she was at the Minister's Gala with a date was actually somewhat of a surprise to Harry. Of course, he had thought about asking her to be his date for the Gala, but after all of the gossip surrounding them a couple of years before, he decided not to bring it up at all, figuring that Hermione would want to avoid even more of that unfounded speculation. Now, Harry actually found himself regretting the decision not to ask her. Regardless of this, he had not expected her to be here as someone else's date. He had not known that she was seeing anybody, a fact that he was sure she would have told him, seeing as how she always seemed quite interested in his dates with other women. He was certain she would have done the same with him. And now, she was walking into the Ministry on Justin Finch-Fletchley's arm. What was even more surprising to Harry, who had always gotten on well with Justin, was that he was now thinking what a pompous git his old schoolmate was.

The Atrium steadily filled over the next half-hour as more and more of the guests began to arrive. As predicted, the Gala was indeed the social event of the year, and much to his surprise, Harry had a far better time than he had expected. Gwenog Jones was a bit full of herself, just Hermione had once said, but not terribly so. In fact, the team captain for Puddlemere United proved to have a far bigger ego than his quidditch rival; an ego which was stroked even further by the small crowd that had gathered around him to listen to the detailed account of his team's unexpected run to the British and Irish Quidditch Cup six years before.

By far, however, the most interesting people Harry met that night were the lead singer of the Weird Sisters and Celestina Warbeck. The two singers engaged in a somewhat long-winded, but nevertheless congenial discussion on their musical influences, many of which were muggle. Their conversation ended with the two singers agreeing to collaborate on a duet album together.

Harry spent most of the night trying to avoid Hermione and Justin, which was difficult to say the least. In the one, very brief, conversation he had had with them, she had called Justin her "escort" for the evening and not her date, something which should have made Harry feel better, and yet, it did not. He decided that it was just Hermione's very formal way of calling it a date. Whatever the case, Harry was jealous, although just as he had first done with Ginny, he to tell himself that he was just being protective of his closest friend. As such, he thought it best to just give them their space. After all, who Hermione dated was her business, not his. Then, he would see her across the atrium; see how absolutely amazing she looked, and Harry would think to himself, _What the hell was she doing with Justin?_

He did not have to wait long for the answer to that question.

Towards the end of the night, as the party was winding down, Harry decided that it was finally time to make the discreet exit. He had been invited to a number of after parties that night but respectfully declined the invitations using the excuse that the Auror Code of Professional Conduct and Responsibility prevented him from attending any such wild events. This wasn't exactly true. The A.C.P.C.R. actually only covered his conduct while on duty as an auror and did not prevent him from going to any sorts of parties whatsoever, but no one needed to know that. After all the hours he had been putting in since taking over the Flying Squad, Harry looked forward to nothing more than going home, relaxing, and sleeping in until late the next morning. Once again, his plans would go wrong.

He said the proper goodbyes to Arthur and Molly, as well as Fred, George, and Angelina, before deciding that he probably should say something to Hermione. After scanning the room and not finding her or Justin anywhere, Harry decided that they had probably already left, noting that she had done so without telling him goodbye. A sudden feeling guilt swept over him for behaving so childishly that night by ignoring Hermione and Justin. He should have been more supportive of his friend, no matter what kind of mistake he thought she was making.

So, Harry made his way outside of the Ministry where, much to his surprise, he found Hermione waiting without Justin. "Oh, I thought you'd gone already," was the only thing Harry could think of saying.

"No, I hadn't left yet," Hermione said back to him very coldly. "I was waiting for you because I just wanted to ask you why you were being such an ass tonight."

"I deserve that."

"You're damn right you do, Harry Potter. I cannot believe you would behave so horribly!"

"Listen, if you're going to shout at me, could we at least do it some place more private?" Harry asked, realizing that there were still people attending the party that could overhear them.

"Yes…Fine." Hermione held out her hand. "Take my hand…now, Harry!" Harry did as he was ordered and took her outstretched hand. She pulled him very close to her, and after that familiar pressing sensation, they were standing in an alley in what looked to be a muggle residential neighborhood. It wasn't exactly his idea of more private place, but it was certainly better than the front of the Ministry's entrance. Immediately, Hermione released his hand and held out her wand and said, "Muffliato. There, now I can shout at you all I want."

"You have every right to be angry at me, I know that."

"Yes, well exactly just what were you thinking?"

"I don't know. I just thought that it would be better if I didn't talk to you then I wouldn't be able to say what a big mistake you were making. I know, I should have acted differently, and I'm sorry that I ignored you tonight. I was a stupid way to do it."

"What mistake, may I ask, am I making?" Hermione asked, suddenly sounding not quite so angry.

"You know…dating Justin. He's not right for you, at all."

"For your information, Harry, I'm not dating Justin. I'm not even remotely interested in him, not that it's any of your business. I only asked him to come with me because I didn't want to go to that thing by myself. I kept waiting for you to ask me, but when it became obvious that you weren't even going to mention going to the Gala together, I asked Justin."

"Well, I didn't think you'd want to come with me. So, I never brought it up."

"What on earth would ever give you that idea?"

"After everything that happened, you know with everyone thinking we'd been going out together, I just figured you'd want to avoid giving anyone that sort of impression again."

"Yes…well…you have a valid point about that," she responded, realizing that Harry had put up a very good argument, but Hermione recovered quickly and said, "Still, that doesn't excuse you being such an ass tonight."

"No, it doesn't. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you Hermione. I know I should have handled it better. I'm really sorry, Hermione."

"Yes, you should have," Hermione said, her voice finally softening as she accepted Harry's apology. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Yeah, well I deserved it. Let's just forget about it."

What followed next was the expected long and tight make-up hug. Harry could smell a scent of strawberries in her hair and something in his mind just clicked. He began to take in the sensations of her body pressed tightly against his. His mind was concentrating on the those tight-fitting dress robes that lay underneath the traveling cloak she was now wearing, and soon it went far beyond that to the flesh that was beneath them that had only once seen in its fullest but never took the time to appreciate.

Before his mind raced any further amongst thoughts he knew he should not have, Harry carefully broke the embrace, but rather than step back and put a small amount of space between himself and Hermione, he stayed close to her, keeping his hands around her waist while she held a firm grasp of his arms, as though she were afraid he would pull himself away from her. "You know Harry, I really did want to go with you tonight. I bought these dress robes because I thought you'd like them."

"They were a good choice, I'd say. You looked amazing tonight…not that you don't always look nice to me, but tonight, you have no idea how hard it was for me to look at you…" Harry stopped himself, realizing that he was about to say something that could very well ruin everything the two of them had done to keep their friendship alive, and yet, he had this sudden feeling that it was out of his hands altogether; that something was about to happen that would change everything. What was more, Harry did not care. Whatever was about to happen, he was tired of holding all of those thoughts in and rejecting them.

"I really don't think anyone would have talked about us, Harry. That all died down a long time ago. People know were just _very_ close friends now. I mean, it's been ages since anyone ever asked me what it was like being your girlfriend."

"People actually asked you that?"

"Yes. Mainly, it was some of the girls in my office and such, and they mostly wanted to know what kind of kisser you were."

"Oh, did they? And what did you tell them?"

"That you were absolutely horrible; that it was all wet and slobbery and that you use far too much tongue," Hermione said with an almost devilish grin.

"Shush you," Harry said with a small grin at her little joke. "Do I need to remind you of what kind of a kisser you said I was?"

"Yes, Harry, I do think I should be reminded."

This was a moment in Harry's life that he would forever remember with such clarity, it was as though it were a movie he could watch again and again whenever he wanted to. He leaned forward slowly, cocking his head just slightly to the right as he did. It seemed as though time slowed down, as though it were moving like a snail trying to cross some vast expanse, until finally, Harry's lips touched Hermione's. When the kiss was finally brought to an end, Hermione whispered, "Yes, just as I remembered. Not at all slobbery, and just the right amount of tongue." Then she kissed him again, for an equally long amount of time.

That night, Harry had the dream again, which made for less than restful sleep, but when he woke very late the following morning, he found that this time Hermione had not run away. She was snuggled up next to him, her arm around him, and her head resting on his shoulder as she peacefully slept. Yes, he felt as though he had wrong Ginny and Ron again, and was ashamed of himself for giving in to all of those desires that he should never have had in the first place. At the same time, Harry also had an odd feeling of contentment that kept the rest of those emotions more subdued than what they should have been.

After Hermione woke up, they had the inevitable discussion about what had happened. According to her, having sex for a second time was something she expected to happen. Just like Harry, she had never been able to look at her friend in the same way since that night when they first slept together. She told him that she had suspected for sometime that he was having some impure thoughts about her, just from the way that he would look at her, which was very much like the way he used to look at Cho Chang, and later on, Ginny. Then, Hermione dropped a bomb when she said she was also having thoughts about him that were less than pure. With reddening cheeks, Hermione admitted that there were times when she just wanted Harry to just take her into his arms, kiss her passionately, and then have his way with her. With those kinds of thoughts running through both of their heads, Hermione was right, it was only a matter of time before they let them out.

Just as they had the first time this had all happened, they again decided that no one needed to know about this. They weren't dating. They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. They were just friends and nothing more. To that extent, they agreed that they should try to keep there more intimate desires in check, an idea which Harry knew was going to be considerably harder now that they had already given into them. When he asked her what she thought should happen if they did give into those desires again, Hermione said, "Well, I think that we should let whatever happens to happen." When she saw the rather surprised look on his face, she explained her answer. "The way I see it, Harry, we could just chuck it all in now and go our separate ways. That way we'd never have worry about this ever happening again, but I don't think that's something either of us wants to do. If keeping our friendship going means having the occasional…shag together then I can accept it on those terms. Besides, the occasional shag isn't really a bad thing. This time was far better than the last."

The cold night air had stung Harry's face so much that he could no longer feel his nose or his cheeks. When flew across an open field, he angled his Cleansweep towards the earth and gently touched down a few moments later to give himself a chance warm up a bit before returning home.

He looked up into the sky, peering at the thousands of stars he could now clearly see, thinking about what Hermione had said about their second time around being much better. She had been completely right about that, although it had taken him time to figure out why it had been so much better. They hadn't done anything particularly different that night, although Hermione did that thing of hers twice, which was rather nice. It also had nothing to do with improved techniques or skill because, frankly, neither of them had a lot of experience to draw on. Eventually, Harry came to understand that the second time was better because they had done it out of desire rather than a deep-seeded need to feel something good after having borne so much pain. With time and more experience, having sex with Hermione only got better.

When he finally felt warm enough, Harry mounted his broom and placed his wand in the palm of his hand and said "Point me." The wand instantly spun in his hand until it pointed directly to the North. After stashing it in his pocket, he kicked of the ground and turned back to home. As he rose into the air, one part of the conversation they had had the morning after the Minister's Gala stood out in Harry's mind. Of all the things they said to each other that morning, it was something that neither of them said that seemed the most important: they never once said that sleeping together a second time was a mistake.

* * *


	14. Finally: Part 1

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter._**

* * *

**Finally: Part 1**

In the distance, the orange glow of the street lamps announced to Harry that his home was not far off, although he was still far enough away that he could not yet make out the green light of the beacon charm. Off to the East, the sky was showing the first signs of the dawn, almost imperceptibly turning from black to a dark blue that grew paler and paler as it got closer to the horizon. He accelerated, flying faster towards the mass of street lamps, needing to get home before the dawn's early light would make him visible.

As the cold air stung against his face, Harry realized that there was nothing else really for him to think about. He had run through everything in his mind so much over the past two months that everything was now old to him. Besides, no matter which way he looked at it the answer always ended up being the same.

After the Minister's Gala they had tried not to go to bed together again, but they were just kidding themselves to think that there was even the remotest of chances that they would succeed. They both enjoyed being that close to each other far too much to just walk away from that sort of pleasure. Barely a month later, Harry found himself waking up one morning with Hermione's arm around his bare chest and her mass of hair draped across his shoulder. So, Hermione's back-up plan was put into effect in the hopes that they could separate their friendship from that other, much more intimate thing they liked doing together. To keep things separated they came up with a few rules. For starters, they began keeping a certain amount of physical distance from one another, especially when they were around other people. There was a sort of invisible barrier placed between them which neither of them crossed unless they were having one of their special nights together. Except for birthdays and Christmas, there would be no gifts or flowers or any other tokens that might be construed as romantic. Finally, for the day or two that followed one of their nights of bedroom fun they would have no contact with one another. This was meant to be a sort of cooling off period that would help get rid of any odd feelings they might have afterwards. They also never went to bed together on work nights, but this had more to do with Hermione's desire to not be up late into the night before going to work.

Even with all of the rules, their attempts to separate a sexual relationship from their regular friendship had failed. Through all of his recent reflection, Harry had come to realize that it was always destined to fail because he had already begun to fall in love with her when they started down that path. The signs had all been there. The time he spent with her almost doubled, and when he was not with her Harry found that many of his thoughts were in anticipation of the next time they would see each other. He had also stopped looking at other women, especially the attractive blonde that worked in the Wizard Resources Office, who, with her nice smile, soft curly hair, and exceptionally long legs, had always been a rather pleasant sight for Harry's eyes. Harry knew that he had not actually missed any of these signs but, rather, he chose to ignore them completely. He was simply not ready to accept the notion that he had begun to fall in love with another woman, especially one he had once thought of more as a sister and with whom his best friend had been in love with. And so Harry chose to remain content with how things were and pretend that nothing was different.

For a long while he and Hermione only went to bed together about once every month or so. It seemed the right amount of time in between. Over time, however, their infrequent trysts became an increasingly less so; gradually progressing to once every other week with an occasional two weeks in a row thrown in for good measure. Harry kept telling himself that they were still just really good friends. They still obeyed all of their other rules and maintained their discretion. There was no reason to think that anything was different.

Then one night, last spring, something simple and ordinary happened that changed everything. They slept together. They climbed into bed together and fell asleep curled up next to one another. Nothing less and nothing more.

Both of them had been particularly busy at work for the two weeks prior to this night, often staying long after the Ministry's closing hours. They had hardly been able to see each other, let alone spend any quality time together. Harry had even been forced to skip one of their regular Wednesday lunches together because his duties had taken him out of town for three days. So, when this particular Saturday arrived, and both had the evening free, they made sure to spend that time together, no matter how exhausted they both were. They ended up eating take-away and watching a rented movie on Harry's new television set. Harry was so tired that he began nodding off half-way through the film, and Hermione was having her own difficulties staying awake. Finally, she suggested that it might be a good idea if they just called it a night and went to bed; a suggestion Harry was hardly about to argue with.

Spending the night together without having a little hanky panky wasn't really an odd thing for the pair, nor was it something that broke any of their rules. After they began their new "arrangement" there had been several nights when the time grew late and Hermione stayed over, but she always slept in his guest bedroom. On this night, however, Hermione did not go to the guest room. She followed Harry to his. The next thing he knew, she was walking out of his bathroom wearing nothing but her knickers and one of his old t-shirts. If he had not been so tired, Harry would have been quite aroused by the sight of her. As it was, he thought little of it and even less when she had crawled into bed, cuddled up to him, and fell asleep with her head resting on his arm. It was just something that felt comfortable, relaxing, and above all completely correct.

It seemed like an innocuous thing at the time. They had slept in the same bed before, but in those times they had just been in the same bed, hoping just to find some measure of comfort by the other's presence. This time was different. This time they had been together under the bed sheets, their bodies molding together into one shape, and drawing warmth from each other. Friends did not go to bed together in such a way. Couples went to bed together in this way. People who loved one another went to bed together in such a way. In one fell swoop Harry Potter and Hermione Granger went from being friends to being one of those couples who were in love.

Almost overnight, all of their rules seemed to be cast out of the window. That invisible barrier all but disappeared; the use of their cooling off period went away completely; and that rule about not going to bed together on work nights seemed as though it had never been a rule at all and Hermione started staying over more and more often, sometimes an entire week at a time. Harry liked what was happening, enjoyed seeing her in the morning, and looked forward to just spending time with her almost every night of the week.

Still, he kept telling himself that that this was just a bit of fun; that it wasn't serious. Harry had come to realize how deluded he was back then, but he had a good reason for looking at everything in this way. He still saw Hermione as Ron's girl. The two of them had wanted to be together since the forth year of school, even if neither of them knew it at the time. They had come so close to having everything that they wanted only to have it ripped away in an instant. Here Harry was, spending nearly every night with his best friend's girl and making love to her with good frequency, things he would never have considered doing if Ron were alive right now. What gave Harry the right to move in on _Ron's_ girl?

He certainly would not be doing this if Ginny was still living either. She'd had a crush on him for so long before he noticed her, and just when Harry had given her his heart she, he took it back hoping to protect her and keep her safe. In an equally short and exceedingly painful instant, he failed Ginny. He could not protect her, and she too was ripped away from his life. How could he just give his heart to someone else after all of that?

No. It was easier pretending that this was all a bit of fun…pretending that he and Hermione were not really becoming a serious couple…it was easier than feeling that gut-wrenching guilt Harry would have felt if he had just acknowledged the truth. Yes, it was easier…but it certainly wasn't right.

That guilt would always be there. Of this, Harry was certain. Even now, as he angled his broom towards the now visible glow of his beacon, he could still feel it, although with his decision made it was, somehow, no longer quite so strong. He did not feel nearly as much now as he had even just a week ago. In time, the feeling would probably be diminished even further, perhaps, to an occasional dull nagging sort of thing. Harry could live with that.

Steadily, Harry got closer to his home, slowly descending along the way. As much as the harsh cold was biting at his face, he kept a tight focus on landing safely. His back garden wasn't exactly large. Add in the eight foot tall privacy fence surrounding the garden on all sides, the tree at the rear of the garden, his two story house at the other end, raging cold, and sleep deprivation, this all made for a tricky landing, one that required his concentration in order to avoid a messy crash. When he was finally within a hundred yards or so of the back garden, Harry dove towards the glowing birdbath, focusing on it as his guide. His speed increased and was rather high when he crossed over the top of the fence just to the right of the tree at the end of the garden. As came directly over the birdbath, Harry pulled into a sudden left turn taking him over the opposite side of the fence. The hard turn bled off most of his excess speed, slowing Harry down to a gentle coast. He took a wide, gentle curve, circling around the large tree again, slowing him down even further so that when he was again over his garden, he was able to pull up to complete stop, hovering in place. Then Harry just slowly floated to the ground, touching down softly in grass next to the glowing birdbath.

It was then that he noticed the light coming out through the kitchen window. Between the landing and the glow of the beacon charm, Harry had not really noticed that the light was on at all. He thought little of this because he usually left the kitchen lights on when he went out flying. It was what he saw through the window that grabbed Harry's attention. Hermione was awake, earlier than he had hoped. She was standing at one of the counters, wearing his heavy, terrycloth bath robe, and her hair was still damp from her usual morning shower. He watched her as she held a steaming mug of hot coffee in her hand, blowing into it to cool it off while flipping through the pages of the morning paper.

Harry's heart sank as he watched her through the window, realizing that his flight had not had its desired effect. To top it all off, Hermione did not like it when he went flying. He was breaking the rules by riding his broom in a Muggle neighborhood, and she was usually quite sullen with him for a few hours after each one of his flights. How could he tell her that he loved her when she was mad at him?

Out of frustration, he began silently cursing Dumbledore and his seemingly prescient ability to always seem to know things that he not possibly. If the old headmaster's portrait had not said anything to him, Harry would not now be tired and cold and aggravated. He would be asleep in his bed, content and blissfully unaware of everything. In time, he would have come to realize how he felt about Hermione all on his own. Dumbledore had not needed to confront him with the truth.

_And how long would that have been?_ Harry's conscience suddenly argued back. _How long would it have taken for you to discover the truth on your own? Six months? A year? Longer? Would Hermione have been willing to wait for you to figure all of this out by yourself?_

If Dumbledore had not given him such swift kick towards reality, Harry might have missed out on his one remaining chance for a truly happy life. Most certainly, if Hermione gave up on him and left him, anything meaningful they had ever had together and ever would have would be gone forever. Would they have ever been able to acknowledge each other in passing at the Ministry? or Would they just ignore each other day after day, month after month knowing that everything was lost? Yes, sooner was definitely better than later. Once again, Dumbledore was right.

That swift kick towards reality had come two months ago, just after the start of school at Hogwarts. His journey to his former school was not actually Harry's idea. The school had introduced a new program to help fifth, sixth, and seventh year students choose which careers they might be interested in pursuing once they were finished with school. The various magical employers would each have the opportunity to send a representative to the school to talk about what it was like working in their particular fields. It was a certainly better than just giving the students pamphlets and brochures to look over. Two days were set aside for the seminars, as they were called, and the students would attend up to four of them each day. As the largest employer of witches and wizards in all of Britain, the Ministry sent someone from almost every department, along with peoplefrom the _Daily Prophet, _several different broom makers and dozen other businesses.

Harry was given the honor of speaking on behalf of the Auror Department. The rebuilding process for the Auror Department was long and slow. A good core of Aurors had been put in place with the same abbreviated training schedule Harry had gone through. It was enough that the Department was able to revert back to its three year training requirement. The difficulty was that the Auror Department only accepted the best and the brightest for training, and coaxing the best and the brightest away from potentially lucrative careers to go through three years of training to become an Auror making Civil Service wages (which weren't bad, just not lucrative) was a difficult prospect. The hope was that Harry's celebrity would help with recruiting.

It was not a job that Harry entirely relished. He still didn't like being used in this way because he was famous and only begrudgingly accepted the task because it was something that would help the Department. Hermione, on the other hand, was quite keen on representing her department. Like Harry, she had been asked was to speak for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures because of the fame she had achieved by helping Harry defeat Voldemort. Unlike Harry, Hermione was not so averse to using her celebrity to help increase interest in working with her department. She spent weeks preparing her presentation, making several visual aids, using up a couple dozen note cards with everything she wanted to say, and used Harry to ask her a varying array of practice questions that she thought the students might ask her. When the day of her presentation came, she was more than ready.

Hermione gave her seminar on Thursday, the first of the two days. Harry would be giving his on the following day, which he actually preferred. He was able to get a better idea of what to expect from Hermione as they talked about her experience over dinner that evening. "When we got to the Q&A, they started asking a lot of questions about you, actually," she told him.

"Really?" Harry asked back.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "It was quite annoying actually. Professor McGonagall finally had to step in to keep them in line."

Harry was really not all that surprised by this little development. During one of their many practice question sessions, images of giggling school girls standing up and asking ridiculous questions about him, who he was dating and the like, popped into his head. It wasn't ego that brought this idea to his mind; rather that he was just being pragmatic. He remembered how gossip not only about what was going on in the school, but also things like the Quidditch star who was dating the singer. All of this talk ran rampant amongst his fellow classmates, particularly the girl, when he was a student, and he doubted that things had changed all that much since that time. Harry had the notion of throwing some of those kinds of questions in with the practice questions, but he decided not to. Hermione would not appreciate him breaking up her carefully organized practice sessions with questions she would never think the students would ask her. She was the kind of person who would honestly believe that the students were attending her seminar because they were only interested in what it was like to work in her department. They would never come to her presentation with anything else on their minds.

"What did they ask?" Harry questioned further.

"Oh, nothing too bad," she said, sort of smiling. "I'm sure it's nothing you won't be able to handle yourself." Harry smiled back, understanding her meaning. She knew that he was hoping to gain some sort of knowledge of the sorts of questions they might ask him, but she wasn't about to give him any sort of a heads up. If she had to put up with it without any foreknowledge, then he was going to have to also.

On Friday morning, Harry left early, going to the Ministry first. He wasn't expected to come into the office that day, but since his presentation wasn't until one in the afternoon, there was no point in spending the entire day at the school. He arrived at the Auror Office, checked over the Threat Boards and the Overnight Case boxes first, hoping that something important might pop up that could get him out of doing his presentation. As nothing new had come in since he had left work the previous day, there was no such luck. So he settled down at his desk to finish some paperwork. He worked steadily, finishing his work in just under an hour. Then, he spent some time working on his presentation. Humphries had given him a pre-written blurb about the Department, things that he wanted Harry to say. Harry looked over the words, rewriting so that they sounded more like something he would say and jotting down a few more notes of his own. He was trying to stall for as long as possible, still hoping that some important case or some new tip on Walden MacNair's whereabouts would come in that would require his immediate attention. Alas, again his luck had failed him.

Around eleven that morning he went down to the Staff Canteen for a quick bite, then returned to his desk to collect what notes he had and accepted the knowledge that he was not going to get out of this thing at Hogwarts. He went to the Portkey Authority Office and procured a portkey for the trip to Hogsmeade. A few minutes later he was standing in Hogsmeade, just outside of the Hogshead. Then he started the familiar journey up to Hogwarts.

The school had provided its carriages that carried the students up to the school at the start of term. A feeling of apprehension began building in Harry as his carriage got closer and closer to the school. He had not set foot into the school since he had left it the morning after the Battle, coming only as close as having tea in Hagrid's hut. He was unsure of what he might feel once he was inside of the castle, but Harry fought the feeling back with a surge of determination to see the thing through.

The carriage arrived at one of the side entrances to the school. Harry climbed down and entered the castle. A small desk, manned by Mr. Filch, had been set up to check the business representatives in. Filch looked at Harry with same eye of suspicion he had always given to every student. Harry realized that Filch had probably used this expression so many times over the years that it had simply become his normal, every day expression.

After checking in, Harry looked around at all the other representatives. He knew some of them from the Ministry, but most of the others he did not know. All of them seemed to have a variety of different items, posters, brochures, and handouts, making Harry feel as though he wasn't nearly as prepared as he should have been. He felt better, though, when he saw that each of them had the same look of disappointment upon seeing him there. This whole seminar thing was really a competition of sorts, to see which employers could attract the best future employees. It would be hard for most of them to compete when someone as famous as Harry Potter was their competition.

With the students still at lunch and several minutes to spare before he had to give his presentation, Harry decided to take a look around the school. Hogwarts had changed very little since he had last been there. The stair cases still liked to move about on their own, Mrs. Norris still roamed the halls looking for misbehaving students, and Peeves was still causing general mayhem whenever and wherever possible. Except for a few pock-marked stone walls that had been hit by errant spells, the only reminder that the Death Eater War had ended at Hogwarts was the memorial that had been erected just outside the entrance to Great Hall. The memorial was basically a short, squat obelisk, roughly three feet tall and three feet wide. It was made of smooth and polished granite with sides that were tapered just slightly as they rose towards the top. was the memorial to those who had died defending the castle, and its placement near the Great Hall was such that everyone would have to pass by it each and every day and be reminded what had happened at the castle. On one of the stone structure's four sides, the words _Dedicated_ _to the loving memory of those who perished defending this castle at the Battle of Hogwarts. You will never be forgotten_, were etched in black colored letters. At the base of the obelisk was a large bronze plaque engraved on which were the very names of those who were killed in the Battle, including two house elves and a centaur. Harry spent several moments looking over the names, taking in each of them carefully. He found Colin Creevy's name, and then "Professor Remus Lupin" and just below that was "Dora Lupin". He smiled thinking that Tonks would have been glad that they had not used her full name. Near the end of the list were the two names that mattered most: Ginny's and Ron's.

Harry stayed there for a while just looking at their names, feeling so many things that he couldn't even begin to figure out what they all were. In a way, he was glad that he had come here. There was no reason for him to have been scared about being in this place…except for the fact that he had to stand up in front of at least thirty students and talk about what he did for a living. He found that prospect suddenly more terrifying.

And before he knew it, it was time for his seminar. It was held, appropriately, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid were both in attendance; McGonagall to step in and keep the students, namely the giggling schoolgirls, from asking inappropriate questions, and Hagrid just to lend his moral support. Somehow, it made things easier having Hagrid's smiling face in the audience.

All in all, Harry thought his presentation went pretty well. The student's listened intently to everything he had to say. Several of them asked some very good questions about working in the Auror Department. The threat of detention and a loss of house points was enough to keep most of the giddy schoolgirls at bay, although one did risk it to find out if he was dating anyone. Other than that, the only remotely off-topic questions had to do with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, which Harry had also anticipated. He answered them all, except when a student asked about Horcruxes. Harry dodged this one by just calling them "artifacts of great importance to Lord Voldemort."

After the seminar, Harry autographed a few of his Chocolate Frog Cards for some of the students, and then joined Hagrid for a cup of tea. They talked for a while about different things, how much Hagrid missed having Harry over for tea and how different everything was without his three favorite students around. Just as Harry was about to leave Hagrid's there was a knock at the door. To both of their surprise, it was Professor McGonagall. She had wanted to catch Harry before he left, to thank him for coming out this afternoon, and to ask him if he wouldn't mind coming up to her office. "Professor Dumbledore, or rather his portrait, wanted to have a word with you. I believe he is curious to see how you are doing."

Harry agreed to the meeting. He said goodbye to Hagrid, agreeing to visit him again soon, and then followed McGonagall up to her office. Like most of the school, the Headmistress's Office had also changed very little. There were few of Professor McGonagall's touches here and there, but everything else was still the same. All of Professor Dumbledore's old trinkets and bobbles were still strewn about the office, possibly because McGonagall couldn't bear to get rid of them.

Harry stood back while he watched McGonagall walk behind her desk and face Dumbledore's portrait. Like all of the other portraits in the room Dumbledore looked like he was asleep. "Albus?" Professor McGonagall said softly, but the image of Professor Dumbledore did not stir from his slumber. "ALBUS!" she screeched, and Dumbledore jumped slightly, along with most of the other portraits in the office.

"Ahh Minerva. I must apologize for dozing. I see you've brought Harry. How wonderful."

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to your discussion," McGonagall said before quietly giving up her office.

"Thank you Minerva," Dumbledore said before she left.

"Yes, thank you Professor," Harry also said, knowing that there were not many people in the world that Professor McGonagall would give up her office for.

"Now, Harry, I wish to thank you for consenting to see me," the portrait said.

"Of course, Professor. How could I refuse," Harry replied.

"Harry, you give me far more importance than what I deserve, but thank you, nonetheless." Dumbledore smiled, his eyes still twinkled, even as a portrait. "It has been a long time since you and I last saw one another, and I hoped that we might be able to take a few minutes to catch up."

"Certainly, Professor."

"Professor McGonagall has been kind enough to keep me up to date on everything by graciously reading to me all of your press clippings. However, there is only so much one can glean from a newspaper, and in your case, Harry, that is especially true. You have done a rather good job of keep yourself out of the limelight."

"I do like my privacy."

"That you do, Harry. That you do, as does Ms. Granger I gather. How is she fairing, if I may ask? I am afraid in all of the commotion and celebration after the Battle I neglected to inquire about her feelings. I have always thought that there was something more to her relationship with Ronald Weasley than met the eye."

"Er…yes. They…er…sort of had feelings for one another," Harry said with a small surge of guilt.

"Romantic feelings?"

"Yes, you could say that."

"I thought as much. That is quite a shame. There were so many who lost so much with that war. However, it seems more painful when we lose old friends and new loves."

"Yes it is more difficult," Harry had to agree.

"However, it seems that you and Ms. Granger are getting past all that you have lost."

"How do you mean, sir?"

"I mean with how intimate the two of you have become with one another."

Harry was stunned for a moment. Then he realized that Dumbledore had to be guessing. They had been too careful for anyone to know, let alone a portrait. "What makes you think Hermione and I are involved, Professor?" Harry finally asked, trying to play it off as Dumbledore making a wild guess.

"Harry, I have suspected for some time that you and Ms. Granger would, at some point, take your friendship to a far more intimate level. When I learned that the two of you spend a considerable amount of time with one another, to the point that the two of you spend more time with each other than any one else, it seemed as though my theory is proving to be true. Of course, my assumptions might be incorrect. Ms. Granger is, after all, your oldest and closest friend, and the time you spend with her could be nothing more than this friendship maintaining itself. However, as she also frequently stays overnight with you, I tend to believe that your relationship has gone far beyond just being friends."

If Harry's jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. There was no possible way that he could have heard about this from a newspaper. If he and Hermione had ever been seen together, even in the most remotely compromising way, word would have gotten out. As it was, they had not even had a close call. There was something else going on here, and when he thought he had the answer, Harry asked, "You've spoken to Hermione, haven't you?"

"Harry, I did not need to speak with Ms. Granger to already have my suspicions."

"Then how did you know that I was involved with her?"

"From you, Harry, just this moment, when confirmed my suspicions."

"You tricked me," Harry said, partially laughing at himself for running straight in to Dumbledore's trap.

"Yes, Harry. I must apologize for my subterfuge. However, I feared that if I had asked you directly you would have been less than honest with me."

"You're probably right about that."

"Am I correct in assuming that Molly Weasley has most to do with why you feel it necessary to hide your relationship with Ms. Granger?"

"Yes. It's mostly her. Ginny was her only daughter, and Molly's been the closest thing to a mother that I've ever known. If you could have seen her face when I told her about Ginny and I…"

"I imagine she had thoughts of the things that should have been but will never be," Dumbledore said, finishing Harry's thought. Harry looked up at the old Headmaster's portrait knowing what Dumbledore would say next. "Harry, you underestimate Molly. She is a very strong person; much stronger than you give her credit for. Do you not think that she would want you to be happy?"

"Well…yes, I guess she would. But something like this? I don't know if I can spring this on her…or anyone else."

"I understand your reasons Harry, but if I may offer to you a word of caution regarding your secrecy. You and Ms. Granger will not be able to hide your relationship forever. No matter how careful you both are, no matter how many precautions you take, at some point in the future someone will discover the truth about your relationship. Would it not be best if the Weasley family were to learn the truth from you rather than from an article published in the _Daily Prophet_?

"I'm hoping it won't ever come to that. This thing between Hermione and me…well it's just not going to last forever."

"Why ever not?" Dumbledore asked sounding almost surprised.

"Because…we're just friends. I mean I love her, but only as a friend. Right now, what we're doing is all just a bit of fun. Eventually, we'll find other people, and whatever it is that is going on between us will just forgotten."

"You do not really believe that, do you Harry?"

"Yes, I really do."

"I see. Then it seems that I was mistaken, but I feel that I must ask you one other thing, Harry."

"Of course," Harry agreed hoping that this topic was of discussion would soon be coming to an end.

"May I ask what it was that attracted you to Ms. Weasley?"

Harry was surprised by the question. He had expected it to be something related to Hermione. As he began to think about those reasons, Harry found it difficult to put it into words. No one had ever asked him why he had fallen in love with Ginny. It was something that just happened; something beyond his control. As he thought about it, he began to realize that there were so many reasons why he had loved her…why he still loved her. Finally, he just answered, "She was beautiful, kind, caring, very intelligent, funny, and she just made me happy."

"Would it then be fair to say that Ms. Chang also possessed many of those same qualities?"

"Yes, I suppose she did," Harry answered, still unsure of the point that Dumbledore was trying to make.

"And curiously, your relationship with her ended rather miserably. Why do you think that happened, Harry?"

Harry thought about this for a moment. The answer was simple really. "It was because she could really never know what I'd been through with Voldemort."

"You could have explained it to her."

"Yes, but even if I had…even with that article Rita Skeeter published, Cho was never going to be able to fully to understand what I'd been through."

"Of course she could not. Do you know why, Harry?"

"Because she'd never faced Voldemort."

"Preceisely. She had never faced Lord Voldemort, let alone survived an encounter with him. How could she possibly ever truly understand that part of you?"

"But Ginny could. In my second year of school when she got hold of Tom Riddle's diary." Harry said, suddenly understanding what Dumbledore was driving at.

"Yes, Harry. Of all the women in the world, at least those relatively close to your own age, Ginny Weasley was the only one who had ever survived an encounter with Lord Voldemort. Although you have not consciously realized this, on some level you understood that in this regard she alone was your equal, the one who _could_ understand you in a way that no other young woman possibly could have."

"So, you're saying I fell in love with Ginny because she was my equal?"

"No, Harry, certainly not. You fell in love with Ms. Weasley for each and every one of the reasons you have just given me. On its own, the fact that she was your equal would never have been enough for you to fall in love with her. You still needed to have feelings for her in order for that to happen. At the same time, without that equality I do not believe that you would have ever looked at her in a romantic way. You see, Harry, as human beings, the relationships we choose to have with other people, whether they be life-long friendships or something more intimate, always depend on some sort of common bond. Ronald Weasley would never have become your best friend had it not been for your experience with him on that first journey to Hogwarts, and certainly, had it not been for that troll, you would never have become close friends with Ms. Granger."

"So, when you told Arthur that my becoming involved with Ginny was inevitable, you knew it was inevitable because of this bond?"

"Yes, Harry. Perhaps the word 'inevitable' was a bit too strong, but at the time, you and Ms. Weasley had been dating for the better part of a month. It seemed appropriate for the moment. And now, this common bond; this equality is something you now share with Ms. Granger."

"Towards the end of the Battle, when she thought I was dead, Hermione charged at Voldemort," Harry said finally putting all of the pieces together.

"Precisely. She put herself directly into harm's way, and I am certain that Voldemort had every intention of killing her right then and there. Fortunately, he did not. But there is more to it than just this one event. You and Ms. Granger have been friends for a very long time. This friendship had already given the two of you a certain measure of affection for one another. It may not have been romantic, but you did care about her. You must also consider that you and Ms. Granger have shared a very unusual set of experiences together. You were both fugitives, on the run and searching for Voldemort's horcruxes, and facing the same dangers together. She alone was the one who remained at your side through every moment of that experience. I believe that this has only strengthened the fondness you share for Hermione."

"But Professor, I'm not in love with Hermione."

"I see," Dumbledore said sounding like he had expected Harry to say this. "I would never presume to suggest that I know what you are feeling, Harry. I cannot possibly know that."

"But sir, I would know if I was in love with her," Harry said, almost angrily. "How could I not know something like that?"

"I can think of two reasons which might keep you from seeing your true feelings, and I think you already know what they are."

Harry did not wish to hear anymore of what Dumbledore had to say on this subject. How dare Dumbledore suggest that he was in love with Hermione! It was even worse that Dumbledore had tried to use Ginny and Ron as an argument against what Harry already knew was the truth. "That's enough of this!" Harry finally said, his facing turning red with anger. "I have better things to do than to sit here and be lectured by a portrait about my own love life."

"Yes, Harry, of course you do," Dumbledore replied back, still with a twinkle in his eye and not sounding the slightest bit hurt by what Harry had just said, which only infuriated Harry even further. "But if I might make one more request before you dramatically storm out of Professor McGonagall's office?"

"Yeah, fine. What is it?"

"I ask that you consider what I have said to you Harry, and to really think about your relationship with Ms. Granger. Examine it carefully and think about how you feel when you are with her."

"Fine. I'll _do_ that," Harry replied with absolutely no intention of doing so. He stormed out of McGonagall's office quite determined to prove Dumbledore wrong.

When he arrived at home that night, he found that Hermione left a note telling him that she would be working late and would just be staying over at her own flat. It was a good thing that Hermione wasn't there because it gave Harry an idea to show how wrong Dumbledore really was. For the next week, he avoided Hermione as much as possible trying to survive without spending time with her. He worked late at work or went out with his co-workers for an after work pint or two at the Leaky Cauldron, and did not even call her on the telephone. For their Wednesday lunch, Harry filled out paperwork, not saying as much as two words to her the entire time. Hermione just ate silently across the table from him, not seeming the least bit disturbed by his cold behavior.

Harry's life for that entire week was absolutely horrible. The cold hard truth was that he missed Hermione. Without her around he wasn't eating as well, and he certainly wasn't sleeping as well, often waking up to the very uncomfortable sensation of not having her cuddled up next to him. When he did sleep, that dream flooded his mind, over and over again, somehow more vivid and shocking than it had ever been before. It was then that he began to understand its importance; that it had something to do with his relationship to Hermione. What his mind was trying to tell him, Harry could not be sure. What he was sure about was that it subsided when he allowed Hermione back into his life.

So, Harry gave in and began to really consider that Dumbledore's portrait might have been right after all. It was still a tough road that Harry had to traverse. It was not an easy thing that he had to overcome. For the next several weeks, Harry slowly began to come to grips with what was going on in his mind. Some days were good. He'd just simply see Hermione and have this warm happy feeling which really made him believe that he had indeed fallen in love with her. Then the bad days would come. These were marked by shame, guilt, and the feeling that he had ripped Ron and Ginny's hearts right from the chests. He would again be distant with Hermione, but Harry did not avoid her as he did before.

Slowly but surely the good days started outnumbering the bad ones, and Harry began to see Hermione differently. He began to start seeing all of those things he really loved about her: the way she panicked over forgetting the littlest detail; her smile, the way her hair smelled, and even the way she never gave up on learning how to cook even though she was still bad at it. These were just a few of the things, of course.

And now as he stood outside of his house, just watching her, Harry had accepted it all. Somewhere, Harry liked to think that Ron and Ginny were looking down at him, happy that he was finally moving on…even if it was with Hermione.

With a deep breath, Harry made his way to the back door and went inside his house. Ready or not it was time to face the music.

He opened the door and closed it, trying not to be too loud, hoping that Hermione would not notice him coming in. That idea lasted all of a second when she spoke loudly, "Harry, is that you?"

Surprisingly, Hermione did not sound very angry at all. "Yeah, it's me," Harry called back after a second or two. He perched his broom in the corner next to the door, and began removing the scarf as he slowly made his way towards the kitchen.

He turned the corner to find Hermione ladling hot cocoa out of a sauce pan on the stove and into a mug. She picked up the mug and stepped towards him. Then she gave him a quick kiss, and said, "Good morning. Did you have a good flight?"

Harry was slightly taken aback. She actually sounded cheerful, and she had certainly never asked him if he had "had a good flight" before. "Er…no, not really. It's really cold outside," he finally answered.

"Maybe now you'll listen to me about flying your broom," she answered back in a "see-I-told-you-so" sort of smirk on her face. Harry braced himself for another onslaught of all the reasons why he should not go out on his broom. Again to his surprise, she stopped right there, saying nothing more about it. "Here…" she said handing him the mug of cup, soothing liquid. "This will warm you up." Hermione stepped away towards the stove again, turning off the flame and removing the sauce pan to an unused burner. "How about some breakfast? Eggs and bacon?" she asked, still sounding quite cheerful.

Harry looked down at his cup of steaming cocoa and back to Hermione, who was now fishing a large mixing bowl from one of the cupboards. Something very odd was going on here. He was missing something entirely. Finally, out of desperation, Harry asked aloud, "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Hermione said back, seemingly unphased by question.

"Normally, you'd be very mad at me and tell me every single reason why I shouldn't be going out on my broom."

"Yes. Well, obviously being angry with you was not going to stop you from flying. So, I've decided that there's no use in being angry about it. Besides, I was never angry with you because you were breaking the rules…well, maybe just a little…but that wasn't the main reason."

"Okay. So, what made you angry with me?"

"Don't you know, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Not really," Harry replied wondering if there was something he should know.

"I knew you went flying because something was on your mind, and you needed time to yourself to think it over."

"But why would that bother you?"

"Because when we were in school, when you were bothered by something you would tell Ron and me about it. Even if we didn't believe you or offered much in the way support, you still talked to us…most of the time. For the past couple of years you've stopped confiding in me about what was troubling you. Then you bought that broom and started flying. How do you think it made me feel that you would rather go out on your broom than talk to me?"

"I'm sorry Hermione," Harry said, suddenly feeling quite bad at not realizing what his little constitutionals had really been doing to her. "It's not that I didn't want to talk to you…"

"I know," she said quickly, cutting him off. "Now I understand that with your job there are certain things you just can't talk to me about. It's not like when we were kids anymore, is it?"

"No, I don't reckon it is. We're all grown up now, aren't we?" Harry replied, putting his mug of cocoa on the counter and taking her into his arms.

"Yes."

He enjoyed how she felt in his arms. Harry took in a breath letting the scent of her freshly washed hair fill his nose with its wonderful scent. And then, the answer to his problem just hit him. It was so simple, but had it not been for this moment, he never would have thought of it. He pulled himself back, keeping her in his arms and looking down into her eyes. "Do you want to know why I went flying this morning?" he asked softly.

"You don't have to tell me that Harry. I understand its all top secret."

"Well, this one isn't. I mean it is, but it's not about work. You see, I've been seeing this woman."

"You've been seeing a _woman_," Hermione said with very distinct chill. The look on her face was actually quite priceless. Her eyes grew wide, bulging into a look of horror mixed with a sudden flush of anger. Harry could almost read her mind. It was something along the lines of _Oh my God! He's met someone else…He's met someone else and now he's going to dump me!_

Harry smiled tenderly, "Now before you get all excited let me tell you about this woman. I think you will like what I have to say. I met this woman about twelve years ago. We were on a train, both of us going to our first day at Hogwarts. She was far different then than she is now. She was nervous and scared and really unsure of herself, but she was also really smart and driven to be the best student in our year at school. The thing was that she knew so much more than everyone else, she came off as being this very annoying little know-it-all.

"But she had other qualities. She was kind and warm, and after a while, this annoying little know-it-all sort of grew on me until she had become one of my closest friends. I discovered that this girl was really something very special. Not only was she smart but clever and one of the bravest people I have ever had the honor to know.

"Sure, we had our problems and our disagreements, but we always got passed them. She stood by me through all of the good times and the bad times, and through the worst of it all, she was there to help me through it when I needed her the most.

"This girl grew into a beautiful and extraordinary woman, and then, we started growing closer and closer to one another, much closer than I'd ever thought we would. It took me a very long time to figure out what she had come to mean to me and how I really felt about her, and when I finally did understand all of it, I decided that I needed to tell her how I felt, and since I'd made her wait so long for this already, I decided that I had to tell her today. I'd made her wait long enough for me to tell her.

"The problem was how was I supposed to tell her all of this? It had to be done in the right way because she deserves nothing less. So, this morning I started thinking about all of the things I could do, trying to come up with a plan. Not only did it have to be done the right way, but I had to do something big to show her what how much she meant to me. I came up with a lot of ideas but I didn't think she would like any of them.

"That's why I went out flying this morning, so I could clear my head. Now that I've done that, I think I've figured out what I need to do. I don't need to do anything grand or spectacular. I just need to say it from my heart. That is all that is important." Harry stood silently for a moment, just looking at Hermione. She was biting her lower lip in anticipation of what he was about to say, and her eyes were still wide open but now filled with tears. Now was the time, and with a deep breath Harry said, "Hermione, I love you."

Hermione closed her eyes, let out a quiet gasp, and just said, "Finally."

* * *

**Okay, sorry about the massive length of time between this chapter and the last. I promise it won't be as long of a wait for _Finally: Part 2._ It's actually pretty much done as it is now, just needs a bit of tweaking. Hopefully, only a few days on that one...a week at most.**


	15. Finally: Part 2

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

* * *

**Finally – Part 2**

_"Finally?"_ _That was all I could say?_ Hermione thought to herself. She had been in love with Harry for more than three years, and just when he was finally ready to tell her that he felt the same way, the best response she could muster was "Finally!" Why couldn't she have just said, "And I love you too, Harry,"? Was it really all that difficult?

Hermione had been mentally kicking herself for the better part of an hour for being such an idiot. This was the only real blight on what should have been an otherwise perfect morning. She had just gotten everything she had been wanting, and BAM! she ruined it by saying nothing more than "Finally!"

To be fair, she had not exactly been in her right mind at the time. Harry's little story had done a real number on her psyche. At first, when he said, "…I've been seeing this woman," a wave of panic quickly spread through her body. In an instant, she hysterically wondered if she had missed some sign or had totally misread Harry's feelings, but then, when she realized that he was talking about her, and not that leggy blonde from Wizard Resources who always had her eyes on him, the panic disappeared, replaced by a warm feeling that started growing and growing until it exploded into a raging inferno when he said "Hermione, I love you." After that, Hermione wanted nothing more than to kiss Harry, kiss him again, and then take him completely and wholly.

She became a woman possessed, losing all focus and allowing something deep and primal within her to surge forth and command all of her actions. After he had said those wonderful words to her, Hermione kissed Harry fiercely before leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his body. She continued barraging his lips with a flurry of passionate kisses, keeping a tight hold of him while he kept a firm grasp of her. Then, Harry sort of fought back, if you could really call it that. It was more that he took over control of the situation, ready to show her that he was just as invested in this as she was. The things he did to her…never had he given her such pleasure before. Harry was so passionate, so unbridled, so liberated—that was the right for it. Harry was liberated—freed from all of the things that had held him back in the past. He was finally free to give himself over to her completely—heart, soul, mind and body—every fiber of his being. Harry gave it all to her at that moment, right there on the kitchen table.

Hermione felt her face go flush at the memory of this; not because she was embarrassed by what they had done or where that had done it, but because how euphoric making love to Harry on the kitchen table had truly been. The irony of it all did not escape her. No one, not even Hermione herself, would have ever thought that she, the girl who almost always played by the rules, who did everything letter perfect, would misuse a simple thing like kitchen table in such a way! But she felt that there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. There really were no alternatives at the time. Going all the way upstairs to the bedroom, or even to the sofa in the living room, was clearly going to be quite impossible. The kitchen table happened to be right there and conveniently the correct height for their purposes. In the heat of the moment it was a great place. In all honesty, Hermione didn't really put all that much thought into it at the time. It was the place where Harry had set her down, where he untied the belt of her robe, and where she returned the favor by helping him out of his traveling cloak and then his pants. Perhaps they might one day get another chance to misuse the kitchen table in the same way again.

Eventually, they made their way back to the bedroom, where the love making continued, and a truly wonderful thing seemed to happen: time seemed to slow down to crawl. Each moment, every touch, every intense spasm of pleasure, all of them were given an unusual sense of sense of clarity and focus. This made their love making all the more gratifying. Neither of them wanted it to come to an end. No on in their right mind would ever wish that something like that would ever come to an end, but sadly, as all good things must do, the passion was slowly brought to a close. She couldn't really blame Harry for falling asleep. He had gotten up very early this morning, sometime before six, and after their late evening the night before, it was a wonder that he even had the energy to go for as long as they had. So she was not angry or disappointed that he fell asleep with his head on her shoulder. In fact, it was especially nice to see that he appeared to be sleeping peacefully for once. She hoped that it was a good a sign; a sign that his reoccurring dream might actually be gone for good.

Although he never once spoke of it or even mentioned it to her, Hermione was quite well aware of the dream that invaded Harry's sleeping mind. He woke her up at least three nights per week when he murmured Ron's and Ginny's names in his sleep, and Hermione had this pesky little feeling that he had this dream far more often than she, or even Harry himself were aware. From the pain and torture in his voice she felt reasonably certain that he was re-living the night that they died. It was difficult for her to see him going through this, but no matter how desperately she wanted to talk to Harry, to comfort him and help him bring an end to this damned dream, Hermione never uttered a single word to him about it.

The dream was just one symptom of a much bigger problem that Harry had been going through, and that source of this problem all really boiled down to an issue of loyalty. Normally, Hermione would have called Harry's loyalty to those he cared about to be one of his greatest strengths. It had served him well in the past, but it was this same loyalty that had only served to tear Harry up on the inside. It had pulled him in opposite directions; one side to Ron and Ginny and the part of him that was not yet ready to let them go; and the other side towards Hermione and the part of him that was ready to move on and be happy again. In many ways, it was his relationship with Hermione and all that it had blossomed into that was both the source and the salvation for all of Harry's pain and suffering. It brought him feelings of hope and happiness which, in turn, only made him feel as though he was committing an act of betrayal.

Hermione understood what was going on inside of Harry's head. She had been through the same sort of emotional tug of war too and experienced the same sorts of confusion that Harry was having. There was always that certain feeling that she was being unfaithful to Ron which had nearly torn her up as much as it was doing the same to Harry. As for Ginny, it was true that she was not as close to her as Harry had been to Ron, but Hermione always thought of Ginny as a true and real friend. She would never have made any sort of move for Harry if Ginny were still alive just as Harry would not have if Ron were. A real friend would never do that.

Hermione's difficulties began on the morning after their big mistake when Hermione's problems began. She had not really been in love with Harry that night. Sure, she loved Harry in a plutonic almost sisterly kind of way, but she _never_ thought of him in that way. Certainly, there had been things about him that always appealed to her. He could easily have been the one that she preferred out of her two male friends. Harry definitely had all of the things any woman could want. He was intelligent, handsome, courageous, considerate, compassionate, and in terms of compatibility, he certainly had more in common with Hermione than Ron did. It was just that Hermione always looked at Ron in the romantic way. But when she woke up that morning, Hermione suddenly found herself thinking about Harry in that very same way she had looked at Ron and also wondering why she hadn't seen Harry that way before. She ran from Harry's house confused and scared at what was going through her mind.

This was when the real conflict began brewing within Hermione. On one side there was the part of her that was beginning to see Harry as the source of her happiness in the future, a man she now realized she could easily fall in love with. The other side was the side that was screaming "How dare she even consider falling in love with Ron's best friend!...Ron's brother!" It wasn't long before the conflict broke out into a full-blown war with each side of her conscience struggling to gain control of the whole her mind. The two sides went back and forth for a long time. When it seemed like one side was overpowering the other and about to win the war, the other side would suddenly re-emerge and force its way back into the fight.

Gradually with time, the side of her that was falling in love with Harry slowly began to win out. Hermione finally brought the war to an end when she came to the conclusion that Ron would have wanted nothing more than for her to be happy, and that if it wasn't him who helping to make her happy, then it might as well be Harry. She also had to believe that Ginny would at least want Harry to have that same kind of happiness too.

Hermione understood that it could not be as simple of an issue for Harry. It was considerably harder for him because he had a lot more to deal with than she did. Ron had been Harry's first real friend. That friendship had become so close that Ron's entire family thought of Harry as a brother or a son. All of them, that is, except for Ginny. She and Harry had been well and truly in love with each other, and they were fortunate to have time to be in love together, something that Hermione never got to have with Ron. No doubt Harry had dreamt of a future with Ginny that involved marriage, kids, and everything else in between and beyond. It would be hard for any person, even someone as strong as Harry was, to get over something like that. Throw in the deaths of his parents, his godfather, Remus, and Tonks, it was amazing that Harry was as well-adjusted as he was and not some blubbering mass of goop.

So it was necessary for Hermione to wait for Harry, until he was ready to allow himself to be healed. But waiting wasn't always an easy thing. She'd had to do the same with Ron, which was infuriating at times because he just would not grow up! And when everything finally did fall into place for them, it was suddenly taken away. The problem with waiting on Harry was that he was an Auror, and although he excelled in his vocation, it wasn't exactly the safest profession in the world. Like it or not, Harry was human and not indestructible. Losing him was what really scared her the most. It would be even worse to lose him before they even had a chance to be really and truly together. It was a good thing that she never knew ahead of time when Harry was going out on a raid. Otherwise she would have been useless with worry.

Hermione worried about that possible day when she would be told that something had happened to Harry. It would be Arthur that would tell her. Something in her gut told her that it would have to be him. Molly wouldn't be able to do it, and Arthur always had a fatherly demeanor towards her that would make him be the one to bring her the awful news. He would walk into the room with a vacant but somehow grim expression on his face, and Hermione would know the awful truth before he could even tell it to her.

Most people would probably have told Hermione that she should have talked to Harry and told him what she was feeling for him, but she thought better of that idea. Doing something like that would have been disastrous. This was the sort of truth that Harry could never hear coming from her lips. The fact of the matter was what had allowed their relationship to come as far as it had was that Harry held on to the belief that they were still nothing more than just friends. It may have just been his way of rationalizing everything, but it was this rationalization that kept his emotional tug of war in some sort of balance and from overwhelming him entirely. If Hermione had expressed her feelings directly to him, this balance would be thrown out of whack. Harry would more than likely flip out, tell her that he didn't feel the same, and break things off entirely. When faced with that kind of probability, Hermione thought it best if she kept her mouth shut altogether and continue to let Harry live in his delusional little world until he was ready to come out of it.

As hard as it was, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait, but there did come a point, very early on, long before she started spending the night with Harry and back when they were just friends who seemed to be growing closer and closer by the day, that she had to know if what she had started to feel for him was something that he might be feeling for her too. Even if he wasn't fully aware of it, she had to know if there was something there. The opportunity presented itself near Christmas time at the Minister's Gala. Hermione had it all planned out. She purchased tight-fitting and somewhat uncomfortable red dress robes. She would use them to entice Harry, to get him to really look at her in ways that she was unaware he already was. Then the unthinkable happened: Harry didn't ask her to go with him. She always thought that he would, but she had not figured on his extreme dislike of gossip preventing him from doing so. She couldn't really blame him for that one. Hermione well-remembered the stares and the hushed words when people saw them or just when they saw her. Nor could she Fred and George's well aimed jokes at their expense.

When Harry did not ask her to accompany him to the Gala, Hermione scrambled and found Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was quite keen attend the event. Making Harry jealous was never really Hermione's intention. All she had wanted to do was to get him to notice her. Then this part of her plan seemed to fall apart too when Harry ignored almost the entire night. Hermione was incensed, partly because she thought her plan was bombing entirely, but mostly because Harry's behavior towards her was atrocious. They were supposed to be best friends. She could not understand how he could just completely ignore her like that. So, at the end of the evening, she bid Justin good night and then waited for Harry, just to give him a piece of her mind, only to discover that Harry was not ignoring her because he was an ass. He was ignoring her out of jealousy. Not only had Hermione made him jealous, but he had noticed her, noticed how wonderful she looked in them, and how alluring she was to him. Her plan had worked even better than Hermione could have imagined.

Going to bed with Harry that night was not exactly one of her intentions either. It was really more of a very nice, very pleasant Christmas bonus. Of course, what would happen the next morning could make or break all of her efforts. Hermione had to be careful about how she proceeded. She couldn't just come out and tell him that she loved him. She needed to be sure of how Harry felt about what had happened, if he was ready to be in love with her or not. From their conversation, it was easy to tell he wasn't ready for it yet. So, Hermione went along with his idea that they could still be friends. There were rules, some of them agreed upon and some of them they just gave an unspoken acceptance of.

Hermione was willing to put up with these rules, the sneaking around, not being able to tell anyone, and the pretending as though nothing was really all that different. She was willing to put up with all of this because even if Harry wasn't ready to be in love with her yet, she knew that he was. He didn't have to say it for her to know. She could tell just by the way he held her in his arms, the way he sniffed her hair (which he really seemed to enjoy doing), the way that he kissed her and just the look in his eyes whenever they were together. That was all that really mattered. It may not have been ideal but if Harry had never got any better or reached the point where he could say those words to her, Hermione wasn't ever going to leave him. So long as they remained together, she could accept never having exactly the kind of relationship she wanted from him.

Thankfully, she was not going to have to settle for a half-way love affair. As she lay in bed with Harry, lightly stroking his head as she listening his slow and steady breathing, Hermione was still staggered by the fact that he was hers now and she was his, openly and honestly. She had Dumbledore to thank for all of this. If Hermione had not been able to tell Harry the truth, there was someone who could; someone to whom Harry would listen. And that was Albus Dumbledore's portrait.

After a while, things really began to settle into a steady thing. Hermione was spending most of her nights with Harry, and generally speaking, she was happy. Harry, however, was making some progress but not nearly enough. It was all clear to Hermione how he felt. It was more that he was stalled, not willing to go any further to acknowledge those feelings. Hermione began to doubt whether or not her strategy of not confronting Harry was the right course of action. At the same time, she could never bring herself to out and out tell him as she was afraid of what his reaction would be. On the day that she was asked by the Head of her department, to give the presentation about working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione saw the opportunity that a trip to Hogwarts could hold for her. The prospect of it excited her, and immediately, she began forming her plan.

She arrived at the school, had tea with Hagrid, and then gave her presentation, ignoring the impatience she was feeling, wishing the clock would move faster. When that was finally done with, Hermione cautiously approached Professor McGonagall with the request to speak to Dumbledore's Portrait. She wasn't entirely sure if she would be allowed to speak to the portrait. The portraits in the Headmistress's Office were there to lend advice and counsel to the sitting Headmaster or Headmistress, not to do so for the students…or former students.

Professor McGonagall, fortunately, did not think it an unreasonable request, especially for someone with Hermione's stature, and Professor Dumbledore seemed only too happy to speak with Hermione. She went into the meeting really only hoping to get a few words of advice from Professor Dumbledore. Apart from herself, no one else knew Harry better than Dumbledore. He would be able to tell her what to do or what to say to get Harry to comer around.

Dumbledore's Portrait greeted her with a warm smile and his usual gracious courtesy. They spoke for a few moments about her work at the Ministry and the difficulties she was having in getting her House Elf Rights Bill to even be considered for legislation. He offered her a few words of advice on dealing with the politics within the Ministry before finally bringing their meeting to heart of the matter. With a deep breath, Hermione began speaking, talking for several minutes, and telling Dumbledore pretty much every thing that had gone on between her and Harry. She left out a few of the more intimate details, of course, but she also did not hide the fact that most of her nights were spent staying with Harry. Dumbledore sat patiently, listening to everything she told him, not betraying a single hint of surprise or shock at the revelations Hermione was imparting to him. If she had not known any better, Hermione would have thought that he had already known the truth long before this day.

As she told her story, Hermione felt as though a great weight was being lifted from her shoulders. Considering that these were things that she had been holding in for so long, hiding them from everyone else, the simple thing of just telling someone, even if it was a portrait, was a great relief.

When everything was finally said, Dumbledore agreed with her that Harry did indeed need to be allowed to come to terms with all of this on his own. However, this did not mean that Harry did need some help along the way either. Harry's life was stuck on the wrong pathway. It was a path that led to comfort and relief, but there was a danger that if he continued down this trail, Harry would only become more and more complacent in his belief that he and Hermione were still nothing more than friends. The longer he stayed on this road, the more difficult it would be to get him off of it. What Harry needed was for someone divert him to the correct path by telling him in no uncertain terms, the cold hard truth about his life, and since she was just as much a part of this as Harry, that truth would need to come from someone other than Hermione. Dumbledore gladly volunteered to assume that task.

Dumbledore warned her that what would happen after he spoke with Harry would not be entirely pleasant for either Harry or Hermione. In the worst case, their conversation would end in a complete failure, and Harry would break it all off with Hermione completely, just as he would do if she were the one to talk to him. On the other hand, if it did work, Hermione could expect a noticeable change in Harry's behavior towards her. He would most likely become distant and perhaps even cold towards her for a while. This would be Harry's way of first trying to prove that the truth was actually false. Once the reality began setting in, Harry would need some time to sort this new truth out for himself. As uncomfortable as it would make her feel, Hermione could not take this personally; she could not allow herself to become frightened by Harry's attitude towards her. She would need to patient, understanding, and above all silent with Harry. It might be a week, or a month, or even a year, but when he was ready, Harry would come to her, ready and willing to accept that he was in love with her.

Fortunately, it was the latter of the two possibilities that played out. The really bad part, the part where Harry all but ignored Hermione completely, was relatively short, lasting only for about a week. After that, things started to become progressively better. Harry started to open up more and became even more affectionate towards her. Still, there were some days when Harry would be just un-talkative and remote, staring off for long periods of time at nothing in particular. Hermione knew what he was thinking about when he got this way. It was difficult for her to not say anything to him, to not help him through this, but Hermione did exactly what Dumbledore suggested that she do. She pretended that nothing was wrong, trusting that Dumbledore was correct in the assumption that this was a decision Harry would have to come to on his own.

And now, Harry had made his decision. Some day, Hermione would come clean with Harry and tell him everything. She could or would not keep this from him. Harry would need to know everything including the most important thing of all: that she loved him enough that she would never have left him.

At some point Hermione must have finally fallen asleep because the next thing she knew her eyes were opening. She lay on her side and felt Harry's body pressing close against her while his arm snaked up from behind and around her torso, gently holding her close to him. What woke Hermione up was the sudden thought that she and Harry were supposed to be doing something that afternoon. It took her a few moments to clear her head enough to remember that her parents had invited them over for dinner. Her eyes quickly looked up to the display screen on the clock next to the bed. It read five minutes past one in the afternoon. They were supposed to be there in just under an hour.

Her first thought was to cancel on her mum and dad. The idea of doing anything other spending the entire afternoon lying in bed with Harry was simply ludicrous. However, Hermione thought that it would not be a good idea to call off the dinner. She had cancelled dinner on them last week already. Doing it again didn't seem like a good idea. She lay in bed a few moments longer trying to savor these last few moments in Harry's arms for as long as she possibly could, but eventually, she had to get up and get ready.

She carefully extricated herself from Harry's arm and slipped out of the bed, doing her best not to wake him. She would have preferred Harry to go with her, but he was so tired, she decided that it would be better to let him get some sleep. She would make up some excuse for her parents. Her father would be very disappointed. He absolutely loved Harry and hearing all of his stories about his work, which he found to be interesting and exciting.

Hermione's mother was a slightly different story. She liked Harry well enough and was glad that he made her daughter happy. It was more that her mother was ready to become a grandmother, and she was growing rather impatient with the amount of time it was taking Harry to marry her daughter. Hermione had explained all of the reasons to her mother a countless number of times, but this no longer was having any effect whatsoever. It was getting to the point that her mother was starting to drop some not-so-subtle hints that her daughter might want to look elsewhere for a husband, an entirely preposterous suggestion. It annoyed Hermione to hear this from her mother and angered her even more when her father seemed to ignore what his wife was saying, but there was little she could do short of telling her mother to shut it and mind her own business, something Hermione could never quite bring herself to do with her own mother. At least now she had some good ammunition to fire back when her mother let loose on her this afternoon, which seemed like distinct possibility.

She debated taking another shower, but there really wasn't time for that. So, she headed to the wardrobe to pick to get dressed. The weather was cold enough that she decided to wear the lovely cashmere turtleneck that Harry gave her last Christmas. After dressing, she headed to the bathroom to brush out her hair, put on some makeup, and dab a little perfume behind her ears. There was a time when Hermione would not have gone to this much trouble just for dinner with her parents, but after five years of working at the Ministry and doing her best to look nice and professional, it was sort of a habit to leave the house looking nice.

Something else that had become a kind of habit for her was the use of a chalky white liquid contained in a small vial that Hermione kept in one of the drawers next to the bathroom sink. The liquid was a potion that she brewed herself from common ingredients. This potion was specifically meant for women to prevent a certain accidental or unintended thing from happening. Specifically, it prevented her from getting pregnant. In a more desperate time, Hermione once considered going off of it entirely, with the thought that if she were to conceive, Harry would have to commit to her. There was no question that he would do the right thing. In the end, Hermione could never bring herself to take that route. She could never force or manipulate Harry in that way.

Now, as she looked at the small vial containing the chalky-white potion, Hermione wondered if there was still a need to continue using the potion at all. Presumably, she and Harry were fully headed towards getting married and having a family now. Then again, they had really only taken one step in that direction. There were so many more things in between now and that future, namely that they had to come clean to Molly, Arthur, and all the rest of Weasley family. For now, the future was something they would discuss sometime later.

Hermione opened the vial and put it to her lips and took a small swig into her mouth, wincing as she swallowed it down. It was a nasty flavored liquid that she guessed was somewhere between earwax and rancid orange juice. Fortunately, only a small amount of the potion was needed and a glass of water helped to dispel most of the after taste from her mouth. There was a charm that she could have used. It was certainly faster and easier than brewing a potion, but the charm also usually left her feeling nauseous for several hours afterwards. A foul tasting potion was much more preferred than that.

Before leaving, she took one final look at Harry as he slept, wishing nothing more than to be snuggled up next to the man she could now fully call her lover—or boyfriend. Either term worked, although she preferred boyfriend. Lover wasn't really a bad term. It just seemed to have a slightly impermanent meaning, as though this thing was only temporary. After leaving a short note on top of her pillow explaining why she wasn't there when he would wake up, Hermione leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek, walked downstairs, put her coat on and headed out the door. The weather outside had not improved in the slightest. It was still unusually cold and the wind had picked up only adding to the chill in the air. The sky had also now turned grey with clouds. The weather report from one of the local radio stations was calling for snow flurries starting late this evening. Thankfully, with apparating, the trip to her mum and dad's house took only a scant five minutes.

As expected, her father was very disappointed that Harry would not be there while her mother was slightly indifferent about the whole matter. Dinner turned out to be rather interesting. Her parents had also invited a dentist friend and his wife to dinner. Their presence really kept Hermione on her toes to keep her Muggle cover story straight. Like most Muggle-born witches and wizards, Hermione had to create a story to hide her real life in the magical world from the Muggle part of her existence. Keeping the main part of her story straight was not the hard part. Hermione had gone over it a dozen times or so. Telling them what it was like for her when she was at university, every day details about what she did at her job, and all the other meaningless anecdotes that people always seemed to be the most interested in were the real difficulty. She weathered that storm pretty well intact.

The dinner itself was alright, not the best meal she had ever eaten, but between Molly and Kreacher's excellent cooking, Hermione had sort of become spoiled by having really good food most of the time. The hard part was paying attention to the various conversations at the dinner table. Her parents and their friends often got involved with conversation about dentistry, a subject that hardly interested Hermione. During these moments, she found her thoughts often kept drifting back to Harry and how much she really wanted to get out of here as soon was possible. She could not believe how much she missed being with him now, even though it had only been a few hours since she left him. _Was it going to be this way from now on? Was this what it really felt like to be in truly, deeply, and openly in love?_ she wondered to herself.

Her parents' friends finally left around seven that evening. They had lingered around far too long in Hermione's estimation. Then the dishes still had to be done and the kitchen cleaned. More than ever, Hermione wished that her parents would allow her to use magic to do everything. It would have taken her less than ten minutes to do it all that way, but her parents always preferred doing things by the more conventional, non-magical means. Hermione pitched in knowing that it was the only thing she could do.

They set to work in their usual places, her mother washing the dishes, Hermione drying them, and her father sitting in front of the television.

They had only been working on the dishes for a few minutes when the doorbell rang. From the other room, Hermione could hear her father grumble "Who could that be?" as he went to the door, but with the running water Hermione really could not hear who the mysterious visitor could be. But something made her stop. A sudden eerie feeling began sweeping through her, a feeling that told something was very wrong.

Hermione found herself slowly walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Her father came around the corner and following close behind was someone she did not wish to see now. It was Arthur. It was the look on Arthur's face that stopped Hermione cold. His face was pal and his eyes were bloodshot and almost vacant. It was the same look he had had when he learned that Ginny and Ron were dead, and in her mind, she had pictured Arthur a hundred times standing in front of her with this same look.

And Hermione knew right then and there. Her heart started racing, her legs got shaky. "No…no, no, no…not Harry. Please not Harry," Hermione begged to Arthur, hoping and praying that he would tell her what she already knew was true. But Arthur could not say anything. He just closed his eyes and nodded.

Somewhere in the distance, Hermione felt the vague sensation of the dinner plate she had been holding slipping from her grip and crashing to the floor. Then it was all gone. She couldn't feel anything. She couldn't feel her body slump the ground and heave with her uncontrollable sobs. All she could feel now was pain.

Harry was dead…


End file.
